^mem 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 


REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM  TO 
THE   LIBRARY  OF 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGIQAL  SEMINARY 


¥%$ 


rt 


// 


GOLDEN   H 


HYMNS  AND   SONGS 


THE  CHRISTIAN   LIFE. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 

"STEPPING   HEAVENWARD,"  Etc. 


NEW  YORK: 
ANSON    D.  F.  RANDOLPH  &   COMPANY, 

gOO   BROADWAY,    COR.    20th   ST. 


COPYRIGHT.  1874.  BY 

Anson  D.  F.  Randolph  &  Company. 


ROBERT     R  UTTER,  EDWARD   O.   JENKINS. 

BINDER,  PRINTER   AND   STEREOTYPES. 

18    HOATH   WILLIAM  »!.,  H.    !. 


"  Clje  fcsttmong  nf  oiu  Soul  ts  tjjt 

experience  of  iljousanbs ;" 

iox 

"  %s  in  foatcr  face  ansfocretb  to  fare,  so  % 
heart  of  man  io  man/' 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LIFE i 

THANKSGIVING 5 

THE  GLADNESS  OF  MY  JOY 6 

CHRIST  VICTORIOUS 7 

THE  WAY  HOME 8 

CHRIST  EVERYWHERE n 

THE  PERFECT  FRIEND xa 

CHRIST'S  INVITATION 14 

A  PRAYER 16 

GOD  KNOWS 17 

A  SONG  TO  CHRIST 20 

THE  BITTER  CUP 2a 

LIFE'S  PROMISES 23 

MORE  LOVE  TO  THEE,  0  CHRIST! 24 

TO  BE  LIKE  THEE 26 

CHOOSE 27 

NO  IDLE  WING 28 

A  PRAYER 2q 

COME  HOME! 31 

"LORD,  WHAT  WOULDST  THOU   HAVE  ME  TO  DO?.  33 

SEEKING  THE  WATER-BROOKS 35 

THE  PRODIGAL 3* 

A  PRAYER 38 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  LIFE  IN  CHRIST 4* 

LOVING  CHRIST  FOR  HIMSELF  ALONE 42 

"MY  CUP  RUNNETH  OVER" 43 

HOLD   ME  UP 45 

THE  SAFE  PLACE 46 

v 


CONTENTS. 


THE  NEW  SONG 49 

CONFESSION 50 

THE  POWER  OF  CHRIST 52 

LOVE  TO  CHRIST 53 

THE  BROKEN  WING S4 

GOD  IS  FOR  ME 56 

FESTAL  DAYS 57 

SPEAK  OF  CHRIST 58 

NOT  FIT  TO  GO 60 

WITH  GREAT  DELIGHT 6a 

OH,  COME  TO  CHRIST 63 

THEY  HAVE   BEEN  WITH  JESUS 65 

THE  FRIEND  OF  THE  LONELY 67 

UNDER  THE  ROD... 68 

THE  WORK  OF  PEACE 70 

WHY  EMPTY  AND  SAD? 7x 

REST 72 

CHRIST  ON  THE  SHORE 74 

AT   CHRIST'S  TABLE 76 

IS  THE  HEART  READY? 77 

"GOD  IS  HERE" -     79 

THE  SCHOOL 8x 

MY  KINDRED 83 

CHRIST  ASKS  FOR  ALL 85 

THE  UNSEEN  SPIRIT 86 

A  PRAYER  FOR  CHARITY 88 

AT  JESUS'   FEET 89 

A  STEADFAST  HEART 90 

DEATH 91 

GOD'S  SAINTS 93 

MY  EXPECTATION  IS  FROM  THEE 94 

WHAT   CHRIST   CAN   BE 95 

vi 


CONTENTS. 


THE  SEA  OF   FIRE 97 

STAYING   THERE  — COMING  BACK 98 

DRAW   NEARER! 100 

"AND   YE  ARE  CHRIST'S" 101 

WHEREIN  TO   GLORY 103 

"IS  IT  WELL  WITH  THE   CHILD?" 104 

GO   AND  TELL  JESUS 105 

A  WISH . 106 

HEALING 107 

WEARINESS xo8 

THE  ORANGE-TREE 109 

EVER  AT  WORK 109 

BACKSLIDING in 

SO   BE   IT 112 

"'NEARER  TO  THEE" 113 

NIGHT 115 

REST 116 

FAINT  NOT 118 

NOT  POOR 120 

IN  GRIEF  AND  SHAME 121 

41  IN   REMEMBRANCE  OF  ME" 122 

"HE  MUST  INCREASE,  BUT  I  MUST  DECREASE"....  123 

NEARER  TO  CHRIST 125 

WALKING  WITH  GOD 126 


A   CUP  OF  WATER. 


127 


ANGELS'   FOOD 12g 

TESTIMONY I3i 

"AT  EVENING  TIME   THERE  SHALL  BE  LIGHT"....  132 
A  COLD   HEART I33 


SATISFIED 


i34 


"MY  GOLDEN   HOURS" i3S 

THE  GIFT I3? 

vii 


CONTENTS. 


JOINT  HEIR  WITH  CHRIST 14a 

GOD'S  WAY....   142 

PRAYER 143 

WHERE  IS  HE? 145 

THE   MOTHER 147 

"  OH,  COME  THOU  DOWN   TO  ME,  OR  TAKE  ME  UP 

TO  THEE!" 150 

"DYING,  YET  BEHOLD  WE   LIVE" 152 

ONLY  JESUS 154 

"YOUR  DARLING  SLEEPS" 155 

NEARER 158 

SORROW 159 

"GOD    LOVES    TO  BE    LONGED  FOR,  HE    LOVES   TO 

BE  SOUGHT" 162 

BROKEN   TO   BE   MENDED 163 

"THAT   I   MAY  WIN  CHRIST" 164 

AN  ANGEL  SMILING 165 

YEARNING 167 

THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE 168 

HE   IS  MINE 169 

"AM  I  MY  BROTHER'S   KEEPER?" i?2 

ALONE  WITH  GOD 173 

IT  CANNOT   LAST i74 

SOMETHING   FOR  CHRIST i75 

FORGIVE! 177 

THE   PILGRIM 177 

WORK 179 

JESUS,   BE   ALL 18c 

COMPLETE   IN   CHRIST 181 

11  JOY  UNSPEAKABLE" 182 

THE  CRY  OF   THE  YOUNG  WIFE _«. 185 

APPENDIX 194 

viii 


RELIGIOUS   POEMS. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   LIFE. 

The  wintry  storm  was  raging  loud  without, 

And  to  and  fro, 
The  angry  winds  flung  carelessly  about, 

The  falling  snow. 

Luxuriously  before  the  ruddy  fire 

I  sat  at  ease, 
The  only  object  of  my  heart's  desire 

Myself  to  please. 

A  voice  aroused  me  from  my  idle  dreams , 

"  Rise,  rise,  my  child  ! 
Shake  thyself  loose  from  these  unfruitful  schemes. 

These  fancies  wild. 


THE  BA  TTLE  OF  LIFE. 


"  Come  forth  with  me,  and  buffet  wind  and  storm 

And  icy  cold ; 
Come  as  thou  art,  nor  stay  thy  shrinking  form 

Thus  to  enfold!" 

It  was  the  Master's  voice.     I  could  but  yield 

To  its  behest, 
While  dread  repugnance  lay  but  ill  concealed 

Within  my  breast. 

Behind  me  closed  my  sheltering  door;  I  faced 

The  tempest  rude ; 
Wild,  savage  winds  my  shrinking  form  embraced 

While  thus  I  stood 

Upon  the  threshold,  casting  longing  eyes 

Back  to  my  home, 
Reluctant  from  my  childhood's  Paradise 

Enforced  to  roam. 

Then  plunging  onward  towai  ds  th'  appointed  way, 

I  madly  went, 
A.nd  night  and  day,  yea,  many  a  night  and  day, 

My  figure  bent 


THE  BA  TTLE  OF  LIFE. 


Beneath  the  blast.    Assailed  with  shudderings  dire, 

By  fears  opprest, 
Despairing,  hopeless,  stript  of  all  desire, 

I  onward  prest. 

Until  I  heard  above  the  thunder's  roll 

The  Master's  voice 
Arise  once  more.     It  cried  :  "  Oh,  faithless  soul, 

Behold  thy  choice ! 

**  A  life-long  childhood,  basking  idly  on 
The  lap  of  ease, 
Or  manhood's  strength  by  long  endurance  won 
In  toils  like  these. 

44  Whether  to  gird  thyself  to  walk  with  Me 
Mid  conflicts  dread, 
Or  back  effeminate  to  ease  to  flee — 
Living — yet  dead." 

Already  by  my  labors  stronger  grown, 

I  stood  and  cried  : 
"  Master  and  Lord  !  with  Thee,  with  Thee  alone, 

Let  me  abide. 
3 


THE  BA  TTLE  OF  LIFE. 


"  Let  me  but  know  I  buffet  wind  and  storm, 
With  Thee,  with  Thee  ! 
Upon  my  path  Thine  own  divinest  form 
But  let  me  see  !" 

Thus  in  the  hour  of  battle  choice  was  made  ! 

Choice  of  unrest ! 
Thus  Christian  manhood  seeking,  undismayed 

The  storm  I  breast. 

No  leisure  now,  no  dreams,  no  idle  time ; 

I  wrestle  on ; 
Beat,  icy  winds,  oppose,  oh  adverse  clime, 

Till  victory's  won. 

For  I  shall  win  !     I  shall  come  forth  at  last 

Not  lost,  but  found  ! 
A  Christian  warrior  whom  each  stormy  blast 

Hath  victor  crowned! 


THANKSGIVING. 


THANKSGIVING. 

I  thank  Thee,  O  my  God,  that  through  Thy  grace 
I  know  Thee,  who  Thou  art ; 

That  I  have  seen  the  beauty  of  Thy  face 
And  felt  Thee  in  my  heart. 

I  thank  Thee,  O  my  Saviour,  who  hast  deigned 

To  stoop  to  even  me ; 
Within  my  inmost  soul  hast  ruled  and  reigned, 

And  will  my  ransom  be. 

I  thank  Thee,  Holy  Spirit,  that  Thy  wings 
Brood  o'er  my  wandering  mind  ; 

Bringing  to  my  remembrance  sacred  things 
To  which  my  eyes  were  blind. 

I  thank  Thee,  Triune  God  !     But  oh,  how  cold 
The  warmest  words  I  speak ; 

For  love  and  goodness  strange  and  manifold, 
All  human  words  are  weak. 

O  teach  me,  then,  to  praise  Thee  with  my  life , 

With  stern  obedience ; 
To  make  the  atmosphere  about  me  rife 

With  silent  eloquence  ! 
5 


THE  GLADNESS  OE  MY  JOY. 


THE   GLADNESS   OF   MY  JOY. 

Thou  art  "  the  gladness  of  my  joy." 

The  world  has  varied  charms,  yet  none 

Without  some  base  alloy, 
I  turn  from  it  to  Thee,  my  God, 

The  gladness  of  my  joy. 

Sorrow  may  sorely  press  me  down, 

Yet  not  my  peace  destroy, 
It  only  drives  my  soul  to  Thee, 

Still  gladness  of  my  joy. 

Earth's  highest  prize  becomes  a  straw, 

A  worthless,  glittering  toy, 
Beside  Thy  beauty,  O  my  God, 

The  gladness  of  my  joy. 

Then  let  me  all  my  heart  and  soul, 

My  every  power  employ, 
In  serving,  praising  Thee,  who  art 

The  gladness  of  my  joy. 


CHRIST    VICTORIOUS. 


CHRIST  VICTORIOUS. 

Oh,  days  of  sickness,  grief  and  pain, 
What  bring  ye  in  your  mournful  train  ? 
Grey  hairs,  old  age  before  its  time — 
The  breaking  down  of  manhood's  prime, 
The  trembling  hand,  the  fainting  heart, 
Bruises  and  wounds  to  throb  and  smart, 
The  nerve  unstrung,  the  sleepless  brain ; 
Oh,  these  come  boldly  in  your  train. 

But  days  of  sickness,  grief  and  pain, 
Do  these  alone  make  up  your  train  ? 
Not  so  !  not  so  !     The  ranks  between 
Submissions  gracious  form  is  seen  ; 
And  with  the  boldest  of  the  band 
Sweet  Patience  ventures  hand  in  hand, 
While  Faith,  Christ's  honor  to  maintain 
Rides,  dauntless,  mid  your  hostile  train 

Come,  then,  wild  troop  of  griefs  and  pains 
And  riot  on  my  Lord's  domains  ! 
Where  you  lay  waste,  another  Hand 
A  firmer  fabric  long  has  planned ; 
7 


THE   WA  Y  HOME. 


What  you  destroy,  Faith's  radiant  smile 
Declares  is  for  a  little  while  ; 
And  Christ  himself  shall  come  to  reign 
Victorious  o'er  your  helpless  train. 


THE   WAY   HOME. 

A  stranger  in  a  foreign  land,  bewildered  and 

astray, 
I  sought  a  guide  sagacious  to  point  me  out  the 

way — 

The  nearest  way  home. 

My  hand  in  his  enclasping,  he  led. me  by  his  side, 
Through  thickets  and  through  brambles,  into  a 
desert  wide, 

A  weary  way  home  ! 

Other  pilgrims  thronged  the  path,  but  not  one  of 

them  I  knew, 
They  eyed  me  with  suspicion,  or  with  greeting; 
cold  and  few ; 

Ah,  lonely  way  home  ! 
8 


THE   WA  Y  HOME. 


Despondent  sank  my  heart,  weary  grew  my  toil- 
ing brain, 

In  the  throng  and  in  the  darkness  I  strained  my 
eyes  in  vain 

To  see  the  way  home. 

At   last   the   silence   breaking,    "  Are  we   almost 

there  ?"  I  cried  ; 
"  I  am  weary,  breathless,  lonely,  yet  we  wander 

far  and  wide 

From  my  own  dear  home  !  " 

Then  gently  on  my  ear  fell  the  answer  grave  and 

sweet, 
"  The  way  thou  art  traversing  bears  the  print  of 

thousand  feet 

By  me  guided  home. 

"  On  these  rocks  they  well-nigh  slipped,  on  these 

sands  were  parched  and  faint ; 
Every  mountain -pass  has  echoed  to  the  sound  of 
their  complaint, 

On  the  hard  way  home. 
9 


THE  WA  Y  HOME. 


"  Few  were  the  faithful  hearts  that  their  guide  dis- 
trusted not, 

"hat  held  their  peace,  pressed  onward,  and  the 
lonely  way  forgot, 

In  the  blissful  thought  of  home. 

"  But  when  the  blessed  vision,  through  Him  at  last 

attained, 
Broke  on  their  longing  sight  as  the  mountain -top 

was  gained, 

And  they  saw  the  lost  home, 

"  Every  one,  straightway  forgetting  all  the  perils, 
all  the  fears, 

All  the  struggles,  faintings,  conflicts  of  the  fast- 
receding  years, 

Kissed  the  hand  that  led  home !' 

He  spoke,  and  with  a  smile  full  of  tenderness  and 

love, 
He  raised  his   hand    and   pointed   to  the   sunny 

heights  above, 

And  I  saw,  I  saw  home  ! 


CHRIST  EVERYWHERE. 


Then  with  mingled   joy  and  shame,  with  contri- 
tion sad  and  sweet, 
bathed  with  tears  repentant  those  travel  -  wound- 
ed feet, 

That  led  me  to  my  home. 

And  patient  now  press  onward,  the   stony  path 
ascend, 

Every  hour  drawing  nearer  to  the  painful  jour- 
ney's end — 

Almost  home  !  almost  home  ! 


CHRIST   EVERYWHERE. 

To  Zion's  gates,  where  holy  hearts  are  meeting, 
My  eager  footsteps  thankfully  repair ; 

My  soul,  expectant,  waits  a  joyful  greeting, 
For  Christ,  Himself,  is  there. 

Unto  my  closet  gladly  I  betake  me, 
Driven  by  sorrow,  weariness  and  caie; 

Ah,  what  a  blessed  suppliant  they  make  me, 
For  Christ,  my  Lord,  is  there. 
ii 


THE  PERFECT  FRIEND. 


Sick  -  rooms,  and  broken  hearts,  and  dying  pillows, 
With  mournful  voices  fill  the  silent  air ; 

Thither  I  go,  for  walking  on  life's  billows, 
The  risen  Christ  is  there. 

And  every  day  I  hasten  to  my  calling, 

Facing,  with  fearless  heart,  temptation's  snare; 

The  world's  enticements  cease  to  be  appalling, 
Since  Christ  is  always  there. 

And  so,  when  life's  brief  daylight  hours  are  ending, 
And  Death,  defiant,  urges  to  despair, 

Strong  in  immortal  hope,  my  soul  ascending, 
Shall  answer,  Christ  is  there  ! 


THE   PERFECT   FRIEND. 

Lord,  from  myself,  my  faults,  my  sins 
Heart-  sick,  to  Thee  I  flee  ! 

With  each  new  day  anew  begins 
Folly's  supremacy. 
12 


THE  PERFECT  FRIEND. 


And  from  my  dearest  friends  I  fly — 
They  err,  they  change,  they  fail ; 

My  hopes  they  disappoint;  well-nigh 
My  faith  in  man  assail. 

To  Thee  I  come  !     Thou  canst  not  sin  ; 

I  come  to  Thee  for  rest ! 
Oh,  let  a  weary  wanderer  in, 

By  sin  and  grief  opprest ! 

Looking  to  Thee,  Lord,  day  by  day, 

Let  me  myself  forget, 
Meekly  content  to  let  Thee  pay, 

Dear  Lord,  of  sin  my  debt 

Looking  to  Thee  with  all  the  love 
Once  to  earth's  treasures  given, 

Content  to  find,  at  last,  above, 
Perfected  friends  in  heaven  ! 


»3 


CURST  S  INVITA  TWIT. 


CHRIST'S   INVITATION. 

[. 
Press  close,  my  child,  to  Me, 

Closer  to  Me ; 
Earth  hath  no  resting-place 

Ready  for  thee ! 
Straight  to  my  shelter  flee, 
Press  close,  my  child,  to  Me, 

Closer  to  Me ! 

ii. 
Love,  pleasure,  riches,  fame, 

All  may  be  thine, 
And  the  immortal  soul 

Still  will  repine ; 
I  must  be  all  to  thee, 
Press  close,  my  child,  to  Me, 

Closer  to  Me. 

in. 

Life  may  for  thee  contend, 
Hard  toil  and  care 


CHRIST  S  IN  VITA  TIOX. 


Strive  to  divide  from  Me, 

Crowd  everywhere ; 
Let  them  my  servants  be  — 
Press  thee,  my  child,  to  Me, 
Closer  to  Me. 

IV. 

Grief  of  thy  heart  may  make 

A  desert  drear, 
Yet  there  my  suffrers  learn 

My  voice  to  hear, 
Calling,  with  earnest  plea. 
Press  close,  my  child,  to  Me, 

Closer  to  Me. 

v. 

Come,  then,  my  child  to  Me, 
Make  thyself  Mine ; 

I  give  Myself  to  thee, 
I  will  be  Thine. 

Joy,  grief  and  care  shall  be 

Thus  binding  thee  to  Me, 
Closer  to  Me. 


<5 


A  PR  A  YER. 


A     PRAYER. 

Oh,  Strongest  of  the  strong  !     Be  Thou  the  stay 
Of  the  weak  creature  that  Thy  hand  has  made ; 
I  am  so  helpless  that  each  moment  brings 
Some  new,  some  pressing  reason  for  Thine  aid. 

Oh,  Wisest  of  the  wise  !     I  nothing  know, 
I  am  so  ignorant,  so  poor,  so  blind  ! 
Be  Thou  my  Teacher,  be  my  Light,  my  Guide, 
Show  me  the  pathway  that  I  cannot  find. 

Oh,  Kindest  of  the  kind  !     I  come  to  Thee 
Longing  for  favors  that  I  sorely  need  ; 
Open  Thy  bounteous  hand,  for  Thou  art  He 
Whose  choice  it  is  to  give,  in  word  and  deed. 

Oh,  Truest  of  the  true  !     When  others  fail, 
Thy  years  remain  the  same ;  be  it  my  lot 
To  share  Thy  faithful  friendship  !     Dearest  Lord, 
Mid  human  changes,  oh,  forget  me  not ! 

Oh,  Gentlest  of  the  gentle  !     Speak  one  word 
And  give  one  smile,  one  single  smile  to  me ; 
16 


GOD  KNOWS. 


No  voice  is  soft  as  Thine,  no  earthly  smile 
So  beautiful,  so  ravishing  can  be. 

Oh,  Best  among  the  good  !     Make  me  like  Thee  ! 
Strong,  wise  and  kind  in  attributes  divine, 
True,  gentle,  good,  in  graces  not  of  earth — 
Let  me  in  Thy  reflected  beauty  shine. 


GOD    KNOWS 


Thou  knowest  them  that  trust  in  Thee  ! 

What  precious  words,  O  Lord,  are  these ! 
Here  let  Thy  suffering  children  flee, 

When  struggling  mid  life's  mysteries ! 

ii. 

For  to  our  childish  minds,  Thy  will 

Looks  ofttimes  hard,  and  passing  strange ; 

Loving,  we  doubt  and  fear  Thee  still, 
And  long  Thy  wondrous  ways  to  change. 
*  "  17 


GOD  KNOWS. 


III. 
Not  thus  we  cry,  would  we  assail 

That  saintly  soul  with  blow  on  blow ; 
Not  thus  should  Sorrow,  stern  and  pale, 

Put  forth  her  hand  and  lay  him  low. 

IV. 

What  needs  he,  Lord,  of  pain  and  smart  ? 

To  Thee  is  he  not  consecrate  ? 
His  joy,  his  hope,  his  all,  Thou  art, 

Ever  on  Thee  he  loves  to  wait. 

v. 

Ah,  dearest  Lord,  Thou  knowest  best ! 

Thou  knowest  them  that  trust  in  Thee  ! 
Blessed  the  soul,  yea,  doubly  blest, 

When  Thou  dost  try  its  constancy. 

VI. 

Upon  the  soft  and  crumbling  stone, 
The  sculptor  spends  a  passing  hour; 

He  strikes  immortal  blows  alone 

When  chiselled  marble  feels  his  power. 

18 


GOD  KXOWS. 


VII. 
And  when  the  ore  is  rich  and  rare 

The  miner  strikes  and  strikes  again  ; 
Labor  and  toil  he  need  not  spare, 

He  never  can  exhaust  the  vein. 

VIII. 

Thou  knowest,  Lord,  a  stone  to  choose- 
Worthy  the  labor  of  Thy  hand ; 

Thou  fearest  not  the  tool  to  use 

That  gives  it  shape  at  Thy  command. 

IX. 

Thou  knowest  many  a  hidden  mine 
Where  Thou  canst  enter  at  Thy  will ; 

Treasures  of  faith  therein  are  thine, 
Worthy  of  e'en  the  Master's  skill. 

x. 

Ah,  Lord  !  we  will  not  stay  Thy  hand 
With  folly's  questions,  folly's  fears ; 

Thy  ways  we  cannot  understand — 
Forgive  our  weakness  and  our  tears. 
19 


A  SONG  TO  CHRIST. 


XI. 

Move  on  in  Thy  mysterious  way, 
We  '11  stand  aside  Thy  work  to  see ; 

Faithful  the  work,  and  blessed  they, 
Who  cannot  trace,  but  trust  in  Thee. 


A   SONG   TO   CHRIST. 

As  on  a  vast,  eternal  shore, 

The  waves  unceasing  roll, 
So  He  whom  all  the  worlds  adore 

Blesses  thy  soul,  oh  child  of  earth, 
Blesses  thy  human  soul. 

Then  roll  thou  back  in  tidal  waves 

Thanksgivings  to  His  name  ; 
Sing  Christ,  sing  Christ,  who  loves  and  saves, 

Who  built  thy  mortal  frame,  my  soul, 
Who  built  thy  mortal  frame. 

Day  follows  day,  night  follows  night : 

And  ever  on  their  wings 
Christ  sends  thee  joy  and  peace  and  light; 
20 


A  SOXG  TO  CHRIST. 


Each  hour  new  blessings  brings,  my  heart, 
Each  hour  new  blessings  brings. 

Then  let  each  day  become  a  song, 

And  every  night  a  hymn  ; 
Each  hour  the  song,  the  hymn  prolong, 

Till  tears  thine  eyes  bedim,  thrice  blest  1 
Till  tears  thine  eyes  bedim. 

Count  up  thy  mercies,  child  of  clay — 

Recount  them  o'er  and  o'er ; 
Yet  canst  thou  tell,  in  life's  short  day, 

The  sands  upon  the  shore,  oh  child  ? 
The  sands  upon  the  shore  ? 

Nay,  then,  but  thou  in  heaven  shalt  sing, 

Sing  songs  to  Christ  for  aye  ; 
Exultant  shall  thy  praises  ring 

Through  an  eternal  day,  glad  heart, 
Through  an  eternal  day ! 


21 


THE  BITTER  CUP. 


THE    BITTER    CUP. 

"  The  cup  that  my  Father  has  given  me,  shall  I  not  drink  it ?' 
I. 

I  take  the  cup,  my  Father,  from  Thy  hand ; 

Its  every  drop  was  measured  out  by  Thee ; 
How  to  bring  healing  Thou  dost  understand, 

Who  only  knowest  my  soul's  malady. 
Quick,  let  me  drink  this  draught  at  Thy  behest, 
Drink  it  for  speedy  healing,  speedy  rest. 

ii. 
Nay  then,  Thou  will'st  not  so  !     But  sip  by  sip 

Must  I  its  bitterness  disheartened  taste ; 
To-day,  to-morrow,  press  it  to  my  lip, 

Careful  that  not  a  single  drop  I  waste ; 
And  while  my  human  soul  for  cordial  begs, 
Must  drink  this  draught  revolting  to  its  dregs. 

in. 
What  then  ?     Shall  I,  who  go  to  drink  with  Thee, 

New  wine  in  the  dear  Kingdom  of  Thy  Sun, 
Shrink  from  the  cup  this  life  holds  out  to  me, 

Asking,  with  coward  heart,  a  sweeter  one  ? 

22 


LIFE'S  PROMISES. 


Have  I  not  owned  myself  diseased  and  faint, 
And  of  my  poor  soul-sickness  made  complain 

IV. 

Give  me  the  cup,  my  Master  !     See  me  clasp 
With  willing  hands,  this  remedy  from  Thine  ! 

Forgive  the  mortal  shudder,  mortal  gasp 

That  proves  me  human,  proves  me  not  divine, 

Slowly  each  drop  I'll  taste,  and  one  by  one ; 

For  Thee  I  drink,  Lord,  let  Thy  will  be  done  ! 


LIFE'S   PROMISES. 

Oh  human  life,  thy  promises  are  sweet, 

They  fall  upon  the  ear 
In  cadence  charming,  and  their  tones  repeat 

In  accents  clear. 

But  dost  thou  keep  thy  promise  ?     Can  1  trust 

Thy  silvery  voice, 
Will  it  awaken  echo-tones  that  must 

Bid  me  rejoice  ? 


MORE  LOVE  TO  THEE,  O  CHRIST. 

Ah  no  !  one  voice  alone  my  soul  hath  heard 

That  ne'er  deceived, 
One  Heart  alone  the  depths  of  mine  has  stirred. 

Yet  never  grieved. 

Jesus,  I  turn  to  Thee  !  oh  let  me  hide 

Within  thy  breast, 
Refuge  and  shelter,  peace  and  grace  provide, 

And  needed  rest. 

For  in  the  mazes  of  a  troublous  hour 

I  make  my  way  ; 
Oh  come  to  me,  Thou  bast  the  will,  the  power, 

Be  mine  alway ! 


MORE   LOVE   TO   THEE,   O   CHRIST. 

I. 

More  love  to  Thee,  O  Christ, 

More  love  to  Thee  ! 
Hear  Thou  the  prayer  I  make; 

On  bended  knee  : 
This  is  my  earnest  plea — 
24 


MORE  LOVE  TO  THEE,  O  CHRIST. 

More  love,  0  Christ,  to  Thee, 
More  love  to  Thee  ! 

TT 

Once  earthly  joy  I  craved, 

Sought  peace  and  rest, 
Now  Thee  alone  I  seek, 

Give  what  is  best : 
This  all  my  prayer  shall  be — 
More  love,  O  Christ,  to  Thee, 

More  love  to  Thee  f 

in. 
Let  sorrow  do  its  work, 

Send  grief  and  pain, 
Sweet  are  Thv  messengers, 

Sweet  their  refrain, 
When  they  can  sing  with  me— 
More  love,  O  Christ,  to  Thee, 

More  love  to  Thee  ! 

IV. 

Then  shall  my  latest  breath 
Whisper  Thy  praise, 
25 


TO  BE  LIKE  THEE. 


This  be  the  parting  cry 
My  heart  shall  raise  : 
This  still  its  prayer  shall  be — 
More  love,  O  Christ,  to  Thee, 
More  love  to  Thee  ! 


TO  BE   LIKE   THEE. 

Oh  Jesus  Christ,  in  self-despair 
I  come  to  Thee  !     Hear  Thou  the  piayei 
Laid  at  Thy  feet ;  I  leave  it  there — 
To  be  like  Thee  ! 

Turn  out  the  darling  bosom-sin, 
The  love  of  self  that  rules  within, 
My  earnest  longing  let  me  win — 
To  be  like  Thee  ! 

O  let  me  see  Thy  lovely  face, 
O  let  me  hear  Thy  words  of  grace, 
In  Thine  own  image  grow  apace — 
To  be  like  Thee! 
26 


CHOOSE. 


O  Gentle,  Sinless,  Undefined, 
Ev'n  in  Thy  Justice  meek  and  mild, 
Help  me,  Thy  loving,  longing  child- 
To  be  like  Thee ! 


CHOOSE. 

I. 
Now  choose  my  heart ! 
From  Jesus  wilt  thou  part? 
Because  an  earthly  friend 
Would  thee  attend  ? 

ii. 
What  can  earth  give 
That  will  untarnished  live  ? 
Hast  thou  found  any  rest 
Save  on  Christ's  breast  ? 

in. 
Think  of  the  price 
The  precious  sacrifice 

27 


NO  IDLE  WING 


That  Jesus  paid  for  thee. 
And  to  Him  flee. 

IV. 

Thou  dost  still  wait  ? 
Dost  dare  to  hesitate  ? 
Lord  Jesus  make  this  heart 
From  idols  part. 

v. 
Hanging  on  Thee 
From  all  else  let  it  flee, 
Before  Thee  let  it  fall 
"ts  All  in  All. 


NO   IDLE  WING. 
Oh  do  not  let  a  single  day  go  by 

On  idle  wings,  without  some  loving  word, 
Some  loving  deed,  from  my  blest  heart,  for  Thee, 

Who  art  my  Saviour,  art  my  risen  Lord  ! 
For  Thou  for  me  hast  all  things  done  and  said ; 

Hast  paid  my  debts,  hast  intercession  made, 
When  crushed  with  sense  of  weakness  and  of  sin, 

To  plead  my  cause  with  Thee  I  was  afraid. 

2S 


A  PRAYER 


I  know  not  why,  I  dare  not  ask  Thee  why, 

Thou  hast  been  pleased  to  give  such  gifts  to  me ; 
It  was  the  out-growth  of  no  grace  of  mine, 

For  I  had  nought  but  sins  to  offer  Thee. 
Sins  ?     Ah,  there  are  not  words  enough  to  tell 

How  complicate,  how  manifold  were  they  ! 
How  long  I  tried  Thy  patience,  and  how  far 

My  restless  footsteps  led  from  Thee  astray. 

But  Thou  hast  lured  me  back,  and  lo  I  come, 

Longing  to  do  Thy  will !  oh  make  it  plain, 
And  let  my  grateful  life  flow  forth  in  waves 

That  shall  bear  many  a  treasure  to  the  main. 
Bear  them,  yet  know  it  not,  as  the  deep  sea, 

Wots  not  what  riches  float  upon  its  breast, 
Content  to  ebb  and  flow  beneath  Thine  eye, 

To  ebb  and  flow  simply  at  Thy  behest. 


A     PRAYER. 

Lord,  I  am  weary  of  myself, 
Let  me  more  weary  be, 

Stay  not  Thy  hand  until  I  learn 
From  it  for  aye  to  flee, 
29 


A  PRAYER. 


And  all  that  I  have  loved,  to  pour 
In  lavish  floods,  on  Thee. 

Do  not  I  leap  for  joy,  when  saints 
To  praise  Thy  name  combine  ? 

Is  not  Thy  name  a  sweeter  sound 
Than  this  poor  name  of  mine  ? 

Do  I  love  better  to  be  praised 
Than  to  hear  praise  of  Thine  ? 

Alas  !  two  passions  strong  and  deep, 

Contend  my  soul  within, 
I  love  myself,  but  I  love  Thee, 

And  long  Thy  grace  to  win, 
Long  to  be  like  Thee,  to  get  free 

From  the  old  life  of  sin. 

Which  of  the  twain  shall  *vin  the  day  ? 

Oh  empty  out  this  heart, 
Dwell  there  in  peace  and  leave  not  self 

In  its  remotest  part — 
I  want  to  yield  it  all  to  Thee 

Who  its  dear  Master  art. 
30 


COME  HOME. 


I  want  to  be  all  eye,  all  ear, 

Jesus,  for  Thee  alone, 
To  be  forgotten,  lost,  cast  out, 

Knowing,  but  all  unknown, 
To  feel  Thee  sitting  as  my  King 

On  undisputed  throne. 

This  is  my  feeble  prayer,  oh  hear 
My  poor,  my  childish  cry, 

Do  for  me  what  I  cannot  do, 
And  pass  in  mercy  by. 

I  have  not  courage  self  to  slay, 
Do  Thou  then  make  it  die. 


COME   HOME! 

"  My  suffering  child  !     Thy  days  of  grief  are  o'er, 
Come  home  to  Me,  and  rest  for  evermore." 

Jesus  !  Thou  Lord  of  all !  I  dare  not  go  ; 
No  work  well  done  for  Thee  I  have  to  show. 

"  Great  deeds  I  ask  not ;  but  some  act  of  love, 
One  word  for  Me  thy  righteousness  may  prove.' 
3i 


COME  HOME, 


Alas  !  I  do  remember  no  such  word, 

Nor  one  such  act !     Pardon  me,  oh  my  Lord  ! 

*  Yet  come,  my  child,  'tis  I  who  bid  thee  come, 
Nothing  I  ask  from  thee ;  come  home,  come  home !' 

I.  cannot,  dare  not !     Call  me  not  Thy  child, 
Behold  my  hands,  my  heart, with  sin  defiled! 
Behold  my  wasted  life,  my  barren  years, 
Behold  my  murmurs,  my  rebellious  tears ; 
See  how  myself  I  love  while  cold  towards  Thee, 
My  conscience  seared,  my  hardened  heart,  oh  see  ! 

"  I  see.    And  since  thou  nought  hast  done  for  Me, 
I  have  done  all,  poor,  -sorrowing  soul,  for  thee ; 
The  word  that  thou  for  me  hast  never  spoken, 
That  word  I  spake  for  thee  with  faith  unbroken ; 
The  loving  deed  thou  didst  not,  I  have  done, 
And  interceded  for  thee  near  the  throne. 
Thy  sins,  thy  wasted  life,  thy  heart  defiled, 
Better  I  know  than  thou  dost  know  them,  child, 
And  freely  all  that  sin  I  have  forgiven  ; 
Come  home,  my    child,   come  home  to  Me  and 
heaven." 

3* 


LORD,   WHAT  WOULD  ST  THOL\  ETC. 

My  blessed  Lord  !     My  Saviour  and  my  All ! 

Weeping  no  longer,  I  obey  Thy  call, 

I  come,  to  praise  Thee  with  my  heart  and  voice, 

I  come,  with  blood-bought  sinners  to  rejoice ; 

I  bless  my  dying  day,  I  bless  the  grace 

That  gives  me  with  Thy  ransomed  ones  a  place. 

Now  for  eternity  that  grace  to  see, 

Now  for  eternal  songs  to  sing  to  Thee  ! 


"LORD,  WHAT   WOULDST    THOU    HAVE 
ME   TO   DO?" 

Hast  Thou,  my  Master,  aught  for  me  to  do 

To  honor  Thee  to-day  ? 
Hast  thou  a  word  of  love  to  some  poor  soul, 

That  I  may  say  ? 

For  see,  this  world  that  Thou  hast  made  so  fair, 

Within  its  heart  is  sad ; 
Thousands  are  lonely,  thousands  sigh  and  weep ; 

But  few  are  glad. 

To  which  of  them  shall  I  stretch  forth  my  hand, 
With  sympathetic  grasp  ? 
3  33 


LORD,  WHAT  WOULD  ST  THOU,  ETC. 

Whose  fainting  form,  for  Thy  dear  sake,  shall  I 
Fondly  enclasp  ? 

They  all  are  dear  to  Thee ;  and  loving  Thee, 

Dear  are  they  all  to  me ; 
In  every  visage  marred  by  grief  and  pain, 

Thy  mark  I  see. 

Straight  from  my  heart,  each  day  a  blessing  goes 
Warmly,  through  Thee,  to  theirs ; 

They  are  enfolded  in  my  inmost  soul, 
And  in  my  prayers. 

But  which,  among  them  all,  is  mine  to-day  f 

O  guide  my  willing  feet, 
To  some  poor  soul  that  fainting  on  the  way 

Needs  counsel  sweet. 

Or  into  some  sick-room,  where  I  may  speak 

With  tenderness  of  Thee  ; 
And  showing  who  and  what  Thou  art,  oh  Christ, 

Bid  sorrow  flee. 

Or  unto  one  whose  straits  call  not  for  words ; 
To  one  in  want,  in  need ; 
34 


SEEKING  THE   WATER-BROOKS. 

Who  will  not  counsel,  but  will  take  from  me 
A  loving  deed. 

Surely  Thou  hast  some  work  for  me  to  do  ! 

Oh,  open  Thou  mine  eyes, 
To  see  how  Thou  wouldst  choose  to  have  it  done, 

And  where  it  lies  ! 


SEEKING  THE   WATER-BROOKS. 

Hunted  o'er  valley,  o'er  plain  and  o'er  mountain, 
Refuge  none  finding,  relentless  his  foes ; 

Panteth  the  hart  for  the  brook  and  the  fountain, 
Panteth  and  thirsteth,  nor  seeks  for  repose. 

Hunted,  oh  hunted  this  weary  world  over 
Refuge  none  finding  my  God,  save  in  thee, 

Thus  pants  my  soul  Thine  abode  to  discover, 
Thus  stretches  onward  Thy  glory  to  see. 

Sorrow,  temptation  and  sin  fast  pursuing, 
Seek  for  my  soul,  for  its  ruin  and  death, 

Onward  I  fly,  my  weak  forces  renewing, 

Thirsting  and  fainting  and  panting  for  breath. 
35 


THE  PRODIGAL. 


Dry  is  the  land,  is  my  soul's  lamentation  ; 

Thirsting  and  panting,  fast  onward  I  flee, 
Fleeing  from  sorrow  and  sin  and  temptation, 

Thirsting  and  panting,  Oh  God  !  after  Thee  ! 


THE   PRODIGAL. 

Into  the  Master's  house  my  feet  were  led ; 

An  outcast's  feet ; 
I  drank  the  wine,  tasted  the  living  bread 

For  angels  meet. 

Not  as  a  servant  did  I  waiting  stand, 

For,  wondrous  grace ! 
Child  of  the  house,  I  clasped  the  Master's  hand 

And  saw  his  face. 

Yet,  with  a  child's  caprice,  I  learned  to  dread 

That  form  divine ; 
Tasteiess  became  the  true,  the  living  bread, 

Tasteless  the  wine. 
36 


THE  PRODIGAL 


Wild  longings  seized  me  with  resistless  might; 

I  stole  away 
And  in  the  wilderness  passed  night  by  night 

And  day  by  day. 

Oh,  weary  nights !  oh,  days  of  sin  and  shame  ! 

Remorseful  tears 
Ooze  from  my  heart,  yearning  to  wash  your  name 

OfT  long  past  years ! 

Foot-sore,  repentant,  Master !  unto  Thee 

I  crept  once  more — 
More  sinful,  more  forlorn,  more  foul  to  se?, 

I  gained  Thy  door. 

Not  as  a  child,  but  as  a  servant,  Lord, 

I  ventured  nigh ; 
Trembling  and  waiting  for  a  single  word, 

Watching  Thine  eye ; 

Knowing  I  could  give  nothing  for  Thy  grace, 

Do  nought  for  Thee — 
Still,  still,  I  yearned  to  look  upon  Thy  face, 

Look  once — and  flee  ! 
37 


A  PRA  YER. 


And  lingering  thus,  my  Master  heard  my  groans, 

Drew  gently  nigh, 
Pity  and  pardon  in  His  gracious  tones, 

Peace  in  His  eye. 

Trembling,  into  His  house  once  more  my  feet 

Were  safely  led ; 
Once  more  re-placed  upon  my  Master's  seat 

I  broke  His  bread. 

Of  bitter  memories  by  Love  beguiled, 

I  sat  His  guest : 
Dear  Lord !  of  thy  repentant,  trusting  child 

Thou  knowest  the  rest. 


A  PRAYER. 

I. 
I  love  Thee,  my  Saviour !  I  love  Thee !  I  love  Thee 
Strong  as  a  rock  is  my  faith  in  Thy  name ; 
Nought  upon  earth  I  desire  above  Thee ; 
My  Joy  and  my  Solace,  my  Hope  and  my  Aim  \ 

33 


A  PR  A  YER. 


II. 
I  love  Thee !  But  oh,  with  a  limited  measure ; 
I  trust  Thee !  But  oh,  I'm  ashamed  of  my  trust; 
I  call  Thee  my  All,  and  I  seek  for  a  treasure 
That  lies  mid  life's  turmoil,  and  gleams  from  its 
dust. 

in. 
Oh,  give  me  a  love  that  the  depths  of  my  being 
Shall  stir  into  life  that  it  never  has  known ; 
Love  mighty  in  purpose,  unselfish,  far-seeing, 
Grasping  and  proving  to  make  me  its  own. 

IV. 

Give  me  a  faith  that  shall  ask  Thee  no  question, 
Shudder  and  shrink  at  no  trial  by  fire ; 
Faith  that  is  patient,  that  makes  no  suggestion, 
Thou  its  sole  Object,  its  single  Desire! 

v. 

Urge  me  to  seek  Thee !  Impel  me,  allure  me ! 
Penetrate  down  to  the  depths  of  my  soul ; 
Thou  whose  vast  pity  alone  can  endure  me, 
Take  me,  oh  take  me — the  whole,  Lord  the  whole 
39 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  LIFE  IN  CHRIST 
VI. 

Oh  how  I  hate  all  my  follies  and  seemings ! 
loathe  my  self-love,  my  mistakes,  and  my  sins; 
Strength  I  have  wasted  in  pitiful  dreamings ; 
Nursing  of  fancies  and  petty  chagrins ! 

VII. 

Oh  Thou  All-Seeing,  All-Loving,  All-Knowing, 
Penitent,  weeping,  I  lie  at  thy  feet ! 
Take  Thou  this  heart,  with  thy  love  it  is  glowing; 
Take  this  whole  life  that  Thy  faith  has  made  sweet ! 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  LIFE  IN  CHRIST. 

I. 

I  walk  along  the  crowded  streets,  and  mark 

The  eager,  anxious  faces ;  [craves 

Wondering  what  this  man  seeks,  what  that  heart 
In  earthly  places. 

II. 

Do  I  want  any  thing  that  they  are  wanting  ? 
Is  each  of  them  my  brother  ? 
40 


THE  MYSTERY  OF  LIFE  IN  CHRIST 

Could  we  hold  fellowship,  speak  heart  to  heart, 
Each  to  the  other  ? 

in. 

Nay,  but  I  know  not !  only  this  I  know, 

That  sometimes  merely  crossing 
Another's  path,  where  life's  tumultuous  waves 
Are  ever  tossing, 

IV. 

He,  as  he  passes,  whispers  in  mine  ear 

One  magic  sentence  only, 
And  in  the  awful  loneliness  of  crowds 
I  am  not  lonely. 

v. 

Ah,  what  a  life  is  theirs  who  live  in  Christ ; 

How  vast  the  mystery  ! 
Reaching  in  height  to  heaven,  and  in  its  depth 
The  unfathomed  sea ! 


4* 


LOVING  CHRIST  FOR  HIMSELF  ALONE. 


LOVING  CHRIST  FOR  HIMSELF  ALONE. 

I. 

I  loved  Thee  once  for  what  Thou  wert  to  me, 
God  of  my  life  and  Saviour  of  my  soul ; 

I  loved  to  roll 
The  burden  of  my  safety  upon  Thee. 

II. 

I  loved  Thy  gifts,  and  held  them  as  Thy  trust ; 
Looked  at  them  often,  clasped  them  to  my  heart , 

But  would  not  part 
At  Thy  behest,  with  one,  save  as  I  must. 

in. 
I  loved  myself,  and  through  myself  I  tried 
To  see  Thy  beauty,  and  behold  Thy  face ; 

Yet  had  not  grace, 
To  cast  this  medium  dim  in  scorn  aside. 

IV. 

I  love  Thee  now,  oh  Christ !  for  what  Thou  art, 
Love  Thy  perfections  and  Thy  name  adore, 
Recount  them  o'er, 

And  at  Thy  feet  lay  down  a  thankful  heart. 

42 


MY  CUP  RUNNETH  OVER. 


V. 
And  still  I  love  Thy  gifts,  and  know  them  all 
To  be  kind  tokens  from  my  gracious  Lord ; 

But  at  a  word 
Will  give  them  back  to  Thee  at  Thy  recall. 

VI. 

And  still  I  love  myself, — alas,  too  well, 

Yet  do  not  see  Thee  through  this  glass  defiled ; 

Thy  blessed  child 
Beholds  Thy  face,  doth  in  Thy  presence  dwell. 

VII. 

Oh  where  are  words  to  tell  the  joy  unpriced 
Of  the  rich  heart,  that  breasting  waves  no  more, 

Drifts  thus  to  shore, 
Laden  with  peace,  and  tending  unto  Christ ! 


"MY  CUP  RUNNETH  OVER." 

Jesus,  I  fain  would  sing  a  sweeter  song 
Than  my  glad  heart  has  ever  sung  before ; 
For  Thou,  who  hast  been  bountiful  to  me, 
Hast  filled  my  cup  till  it  is  running  o'er 
43 


MY  CUP  RUNNETH  OVER. 


Why  hast  Thou  thus  revealed  Thyself  to  me  ? 
Why  hast  Thy  secret  unto  me  made  known  ? 
Why  singled  me  from  many  loving  hearts, 
Whispering  these  mysteries  to  me  alone  ? 

Thou  art  too  good,  too  great,  too  wise,  too  kind; 
And  even  while  to  see  Thee  I  entreat, 
My  weakness  puts  Thee  from  me,  and  I  cry 
This  is  too  great  a  joy,  a  bliss  too  sweet. 

Oh  stay  Thine  hand  !  I  cannot,  cannot  bear 
This  weight  of  glory ;  cannot  live,  and  see 
The  face  that  Thou  in  tender  grace  hast  turned 
On  me,  a  sinful  creature,  even  me. 

Yes,  I  can  bear  Thy  strokes,  but  not  Thy  love  ; 
I  can  endure  Thy  frowns,  but  not  Thy  smile ; 
Frowns  I  deserve,  and  stripes  I  sorely  need, 
And  Thine  own  choice  has  given  them  erewhile. 

And  yet  amid  my  tears,  my  heart  rings  out 
A    richer  song  than  songs  it  sang  before ; 
For  Thou  who  hast  been  bountiful  to  me, 
Hast  given  a  cup  to-day  that  runneth  o'er  ! 
44 


HOLD  ME   UP. 


HOLD   ME   UP. 

"  Hold  Thou  me  up  and  I  shall  be  safe." 

I  cannot  trust  myself,  Jesus  my  Lord, 

Hold  Thou  me  up ! 
My  feet  had  well  nigh  slipped,  with  Thine  own 
word 

Hold  Thou  me  up ! 
Oh  teach  me  how,  and  when,  and  where  to  go, 
The  path  of  safety  I  entreat  to  know. 

I  cannot  Walk  alone  ;  I  am  a  child, 

Hold  Thou  me  up ; 
And  yet  to  try  my  strength  am  oft  beguiled ; 

Hold  Thou  me  up  ! 
Support  me,  lead  me,  keep  me  in  Thy  way 
Be  Thou  my  Surety,  Thou  my  Strength  and 
Stay. 

Oh  do  not  let  me  fall !  I  cling  to  Thee  ; 

Hold  Thou  me  up ; 
Be  merciful  in  this  great  strait  to  me, 

Hold  Thou  me  up  ! 
45 


THE  SAFE  PLACE. 


Let  Thy  strong  hand  prevent  me ;  let  Thy  grace 
Carry  me  safely  past  this  slippery  place. 

For  I  have  fallen,  and  I  know  its  pain ; 

Hold  thou  me  up ; 
Fallen  and  risen,  ris'n  to  fall  again ; 

Hold  Thou  me  up ; 
My  weakness  and  my  helplesness  I  know ; 
Hold  Thou  me  up,  I  will  not  let  Thee  go ! 


THE   SAFE   PLACE. 

I. 
I  went  to  Jesus  with  a  prayer 

Upon  a  suppliant's  knee ; 
Low  at  His  Cross  I  laid  me  down, 

Nor  asked  His  face  to  see, 
Yet  whispered  in  His  ear  the  tale 

No  mortal  ear  could  bear ; 
The  story  of  a  faithless  heart ; 

And  of  its  self-despair. 
46 


THE  SAFE  PLACE. 


II. 
I  told  Him  how  my  feet  had  slipped  ■ 

How  often  gone  astray  ; 
How  oft  my  heart  refused  to  love, 

My  lips  refused  to  pray. 
In  stammering  words  that  none  but  He 

Hearing  could  understand, 
I  made  complaint  of  careless  work 

Done  by  a  careless  hand. 


in. 

Of  wasted  hours,  of  idle  words, 

Of  love  oft  waxing  dim, 
Of  silence  when  a  warmer  heart 

Had  testified  of  Him. 
I  owned  my  weak  and  selfish  ways; 

How  often  all  day  long, 
Moanings  and  sighs  had  filled  His  ears 

To  whom  I  owed  a  song. 
And  what  said  He  ?  What  whispered  words 

Responded  unto  mine  ? 
Did  He  reproach  me?     Did  His  love 

On  me  refuse  to  shine  ? 
47 


THE  SAFE  PLACE 


IV. 

Nay,  thus  He  spake,  and  bene  Him  low- 
To  reach  my  anxious  ear, 

"  My  child,  thou  doest  well  to  lie 
As  thou  art  lying  here  ; 

I  knew  thy  human  weakness,  knew 
Each  lurking  bosom-sin, 

Knew  it,  and  yet  in  loving  grace 
Thy  heart  I  stooped  to  win. 

v. 

"  I  knew  that  thou  would'st  often  fall, 

Poor  work  for  Me  would'st  do, 
Would'st  give  me  only  half  thy  love, 

Give  praises  faint  and  few. 
And  yet  I  chose  thee.     Be  content; 

And  since  thou  canst  not  fly 
To  heights  by  dearer  souls  attained, 

Let  it  suffice  to  lie 

VI. 

"  Here  at  My  feet ;  it  is  the  place 
To  which  My  loved  ones  flee ; 

48 


THE  NE  W  SONG. 


They  find  it  sweet,  and  so  shalt  thou 
'Tis  a  safe  place  for  thee." 

Yes,  it  is  sweet,  and  it  is  safe ! 
And  here  will  I  abide  ; 

Sinful,  and  yet  forgiven,  sad, 
And  yet  so  satisfied  1 


THE   NEW   SONG. 

"And  they  sang  a  new  Song." 

There  is  a  song  I  want  to  sing — - 

Or  want  to  learn  to  sing ; 
It  is  a  song  of  praise  to  Thee, 

Jesus,  my  Lord  and  King. 

Oh  teach  me  all  its  varied  notes, 

Its  hidden  melody, 
Till  I  have  learned  to  sing  by  heart, 

This  song  of  praise  to  Thee. 

I  want  to  sing,  while  yet  on  earth, 
The  tender,  thankful  strain 

Of  saints,  who  gladly  near  Thy  throne, 
Make  Thee  their  song's  refrain. 

4  49 


confession; 


For  though  I  am  not  yet  a  saint, 
And  though  my  praises  ring 

From  an  encumbered,  earthly  soul, 
I  love  the  strains  they  sing. 

And  well  I  love,  I  know  I  love, 
Though  truly  not  as  they, 

Thee,  blessed  Jesus  whom  I  praise 
Feebly  on  earth  to-day  ; 

While  there  's  a  song  I  want  to  sing- 
Or  want  to  learn  to  sing ; 

A  blessed  song  of  love  to  Thee, 
Jesus,  my  Lord  and  King. 


CONFESSION. 

Jesus,  is  there  a  spot  where  I  can  hide 

To  be  alone  with  Thee, 
Where  I  can  whisper  in  Thy  listening  ear 
My  earnest  plea  ? 

Oh  I  do  long  so  to  be  sanctified ; 
To  be  emancipate 
50 


CONFESSION. 


From  fellowship  with  evil,  and  to  feel 
Of  sin  no  weight. 

Surely  I  love  Thee ; — and  yet,  if  I  do — 

Whence  comes  this  earthly  taint? 
Surely  I  love  to  pray, — but  loving  it, 
Whence  this  restraint  ? 

Is  there  a  soul  on  earth  so  clogged  as  mine  ? 

That  mounts  on  such  poor  wing  ? 
Surely  there  is  no  song  of  praise  so  mean 
As  that  I  sing. 

Yet  it  is  eager  for  exultant  flight 

And  sometimes  how  it  longs 
To  pour  into  Thy  loving,  gracious  ear, 
Exultant  songs  ! 

Oh  blest  are  they  whose  conflicts  are  no  more, 
Whose  love  flows  forth  to  Thee 
a  resistless  tide  that  ebbs  and  flows 
Like  a  deep  sea! 


51 


THE  POWER  OF  CHRIST. 


THE  POWER  OF  CHRIST. 
I. 
Oh  is  it  possible  that  I,  a  sinner, 

Shall  be,  one  day,  a  saint  ? 
That  life's  hard  conflict  ever  shall  be  over, 
And  ended  all  complaint  ? 

ii. 
Shall  I  be  cleansed  and  washed,  and  then  invited 

To  be  the  Master's  guest  ? 
Has  He  a  bridal  robe  for  me  provided, 

In  which  I  shall  be  drest  ? 

in. 
It  cannot  be  !  It  seems  as  if  such  records 

As  stand  against  my  name, 
Could  not  be  wiped  away,  must  stand  forever 

To  be  my  lasting  shame. 

iv. 

Oh  Jesus,  make  me  know  what  half  I'm  knowing 

The  power  of  Thy  blood, 
Plunge  Thou  this  faithless  and  this  sinful  creature 

Deep,  deep  within  its  flood ! 

52 


LOVE  TO   CHRIST. 


LOVE   TO   CHRIST. 

Dear  Saviour,  if  I  love  Thee  not 
I  know  not  what  love  means ; 

I  live  upon  Thy  smile,  I  warm, 
I  sun  me  in  its  beams ; 

And  drinking  at  Thy  fountain  sweet 
Care  not  for  other  streams. 

But  do  I  give  a  generous  love  ? 

Is  it  so  rich  and  free, 
That  I  can  give  no  more,  dear  Lord, 

No  more  be  asked  of  me  ? 
Is  my  heart  really  filled  as  full 

As  human  heart  can  be  ? 

Nay,  if  it  be,  yet  fill  it,  Lord, 
With  more  than  it  can  hold ; 

Give  me  that  I  may  give,  until 
My  loving  arms  enfold, 

Not  Thee  alone,  but  Thy  whole  world 
In  myriads  untold ! 


53 


THE  BROKEN  WING. 


THE   BROKEN  WING. 

Have  patience  and  have  faith 

The  surgeon  saith, 
Suffer  awhile  this  irksomeness  of  pain ; 
This  broken  limb  shall  soon  be  well  again ; 

Yea,  what  is  more, 
Be  stronger  for  all  service  than  before. 

So  come  I,  broken  heart, 

To  ease  thy  smart, 
With  promises  the  future  shall  make  good. 
Bear  thou  in  patience  Sorrow's  solitude, 

For  she,  at  length 
Will  lead  thee  forth  in  manliness  and  stiength. 

Yes,  and  in  strength  unknown 
When  joy  alone 
Held  thee  within  her  nerveless  arms,  until 
Thou  hadst  lost  courage,  lost  all  force  of  will. 

God  will  restore 
That  which  He  brake,  and  give  it  strength  the 
more, 

54 


THE  BROKEN    WING. 


Will  make  thee  strong  and  wise 

To  sympathize; 
For  thou  wilt  know  to  soothe,  with  tender  hand, 
The    sufferings   thou   hast   learned   to    under- 
stand ; 

And  to  the  weak 
What  words  of  inspiration  thou  wilt  speak ! 

Thou  wilt  be  strong  in  love  ; 

Soft  as  a  dove, 
Yet  hovering  as  on  eagle's  wings  around 
The  spot  where  loneliness  and  grief  are  found, 

And  healing  bring, 
In  grateful  memory  of  a  broken  wing. 

Thou  wilt  have  strength  unpriced 

To  work  for  Christ ! 
To  testify  of  Him  whom  pain  alone 
Could  to  the  human  soul  Himself  make  known ; 

To  watch  and  pray, 
Stronger  upon  each  morrow  than  to-day. 


<5 


GoD  IS  FOR  ME. 


GOD   IS  FOR   ME. 

"  When  I  cry  unto  Thee  then  shall  mine  enemies  turn  back  :   this  I 
know :  for  God  is  for  me." — Ps.  56  :  9. 

Turn  back,  mine  enemy,  unmoved 

Thy  wiles,  thy  snares  I  see ; 
Turn  back,  for  when  I  cry  to  God 

I  know  He  is  for  me. 


Thy  day  is*  over ;  I  no  more 

Thy  willing  slave  can  be, 
For  I  have  learned  to  cry  to  God ; 

I  know  He  is  for  me. 

Hence  with  thy  strong  delusions,  hence, 

I  parley  not  with  thee, 
But  mid  thy  temptings  cry  to  God, 

I  know  He  is  for  me. 

Ah,  if  thou  knewest  as  I  know 

The  God  to  whom  I  flee, 
Thou  wouldst  not  think  to  gain  mine  ear; 

I  know  He  is  for  me ! 


56 


FESTAL  DA  YS. 


FESTAL    DAYS. 
I. 
Thou  hast  thy  festal  days,  my  soul, 

Thou  hast  had  one  to  -  day  ! 
How  gracious  was  the  Master's  voice, 

How  sweet  it  was  to  pray. 
In  all  the  world  oh  can  there  be, 

A  greater  joy  than  thine, 
Who  hast  seen  Jesus,  and  hast  felt 

His  love  upon  thee  shine? 

ii. 

Yet  crave  not,  ask  not,  that  thy  life 

Be  fashioned  of  such  days ; 
Take  what  God  gives,  and  question  not 

The  mystery  of  His  ways  ; 
Sit  at  His  table  when  His  voice 

Shall  to  that  table  call ; 
Yet  when  He  bids  not,  be  content 

With  crumbs  that  from  it  fall. 

in. 

Oh  blessed  Jesus !     Thou  art  good 
When  I  may  see  Thy  face, 
57 


SPEAK  OF  CHRIST. 


And  just  as  good,  when  though  I  cry 
Thou  wilt  not  grant  that  grace. 

Giving,  I  love  Thee  in  Thy  gifts, 
Thy  gracious  Name  adore. 

Withholding,  I  will  love  Thee,  Lord 
And  cling  to  Thee  the  more  ! 


SPEAK    OF    CHRIST. 

I. 

Oh  speak  to  me  of  Christ !     No  name 

Falls  on  my  ravished  ear 
With  half  the  music,  half  the  charm, 

That  makes  it  bliss  to  hear 
A  loving  voice  pronounce  that  word 

As  one  who  holds  it  dear. 

n. 

Hast  thou  not  in  some  favored  hour 

Beheld  Him  face  to  face, 
And  canst  thou  not  make  known  to  me 

Its  beauty  and  its  grace, 
And  lure  me  on  to  seek  for  Him 

In  some  familiar  place  ? 
5& 


SPEAK  OF  CHRIST. 


III. 
Hast  thou  not  feasted  on  His  word, 

And  found  it  meat  indeed, 
And  canst  thou  not  a  fragment  spare 

On  which  my  soul  may  feed, 
Some  promise,  whispered  by  His  lips 

To  meet  my  sorest  need  ? 

IV. 

Has  He  not  revelations  made 

In  sacred  hours  to  thee, 
That  thou  canst  hold  as  sacred  trust, 

And  yet  confide  to  me 
Who  love,  but  fain  would  love  Him  more, 

Have  seen,  yet  more  would  see  ? 

v. 

Yes,  speak  of  Christ !    As  one  who  speaks 

Of  his  familiar  friend, 
As  one  who  sees  Him  every  day, 

May  on  His  steps  attend, 
As  one  who  oft,  on  reverent  knee 

Before  Him  loves  to  bend. 
59 


NOT  FIT  TO  GO. 


VI. 
Speak  with  a  living  warmth,  a  glow 

That  shall  my  heart  enflame, 
And  with  thy  rich  and  conscious  love 

Put  my  poor  love  to  shame, 
Until  I,  too,  have  learned  to  speak 

That  dearest,  dearest  Name ! 


NOT  FIT  TO  GO. 

I  have  been  forth  upon  my  Master's  work 

And  yet  I  know 
I  was  not  fit  His  work  to  undertake, 

Not  fit  to  go. 

I  fancied  that  He  sent  me,  that  he  said 

"  The  work  is  Mine, 
But  lo  I  have  entrusted  it  to  thee, 

And  it  is  thine." 

Alas,  I  went  with  banner  floating  high, 

Strong  in  my  pride ; 
And  bitterly  came  back,  with  my  whole  self 

Dissatisfied. 

60 


NOT  FIT  TO  GO, 


Dear  Lord,  art  Thou  so  poor  ?  Couldst  Thou  not 
find 

A  hand  more  meet 
To  bear  Thy  gifts  ?  See,  it  is  s'ained  and  soiled, 

And  my  tired  feet 

Are  all  adust  with  wanderings  from  Thee ; 

I  blush  with  shame, 
When  I  go  laden  with  the  Bread  of  Life, 

Or  speak  Thy  name. 

Oh    cleanse    these    hands,    and   from   these    feet 
shake  off 

The  dust  of  sin  ; 
Rid  me  of  all  my  curses,  make  me  pure 

Without,  within. 

For  blessed  are  the  hands  thai  wait  on  Thee, 

And  blest  the  feet 
That  speed  them  on  Thy  missions  and  that  kno^f 

Thy  service  sweet. 


61 


WITH  GREA  T  DELIGHT. 


WITH   GREAT  DELIGHT. 

M  I  sat  down  under  His  shadow  with  great  delight." 
"  I  will  abide  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty." 

With  great  delight !  Yes,  so  I  sat  and  rested  in 

His  shade, 
When  of  the  burden  of  the  day,  and  of  its  glare 

afraid ; 
I  felt  myself  protected,  saved,  looked  up  and  saw 

His  face, 
How  beautiful   in  tenderness,  how  wonderful  in 

grace  ! 

With  great  delight !  Life  pressed  me  sore,  I  knew 

not  where  to  flee, 
In  all  the  world  I  saw  no  room,  no  sphere,  no  work 

for  me ; 
He  called  me  to  this  sheltered  spot,  rebuking  my 

despair, 
I  went,  and  oh  the  joy  I  found,  the  peace  I  tasted 

there ! 

With  great  delight !  A  loving  friend  had  fallen  at 
my  side, 

62 


OH  COME  TO  CHRIST. 


My  eyes   were   blinded   by   my   tears,  my  heart 

within  me  died; 
I  staggered  from  the  empty  world  into  this  dear 

retreat, 
And  found  my  bitter  grief  assuaged,  yea  found  my 

sorrow  sweet. 

With  great  delight !  My  heart  is  fixed,  its  endless 

wants  I  know, 
Forth  from  this  shelter  I  henceforth  will  never, 

never  go ; 
Here  in  the  shadow  of  God's  love  forever    I'll 

abide, 
So  glad,  so  blest,  so  sure,  so  safe ;  so  more  than 

satisfied ! 


OH  COME   TO  CHRIST. 

I. 

Oh  come  to  Christ !  a  single  glance 
Would  melt  your  doubts  away, 

One  glance  would  flood  you  with  His  light 
And  an  eternal  day. 
63 


OH  COME  TO  CHRIST. 


IT 


Oh  come  to  Christ !  He  waits  for  you, 

Long  has  He  waiting  stood, 
Stooping  to  ask  you  for  your  heart, 

Yearning  to  do  you  good. 

in. 

Oh  come  to  Christ !  the  world  has  proved 

To  thee  a  broken  reed ; 
Thou  canst  not  trust  what  always  fails 

In  time  of  sorest  need. 

IV. 

Oh  come  to  Christ !  for  peace,  for  rest. 

For  all  thy  heart  can  crave, 
For  triumph  over  pain  and  loss, 

The  deathbed  and  the  grave. 


64 


THEY  HA  VE  BEEN    WITH  JESUS. 


THE*'  HAVE  BEEN  WITH  JESUS. 

"And  they  took  knowledge  of  them,"  etc. 

Have   they  not  been  with  Jesus?  See  how  theii 

faces  shine, 
With    a  radiance  unearthly,   with   a  glow  almost 

divine, 
His  mark  is  on  their  foreheads,  His  grace  is  in 

their  smile, 
Every   feature   is   the  witness  of  a  spirit  without 

guile. 

They  must  have  been  with  Jesus !  for  truly  they 
alone, 

Who  dwell  with  Him  can  ever  crotch  the  sweet- 
ness of  his  tone, 

What  tenderness,  what  earnestness,  is  breathed  in 
every  note, 

What  thrills  of  joy  melodious  within  its  cadence 
float. 

They  have  been  much  with  Jesus !  no  better 
proof  it  needs 

5  65 


THE  Y  HA  VE  BEEN  WITH  JESUS. 

Than  the  beauty  and  the  kindliness  of  all  their 

holy  deeds, 
Theirs  are  the  hands  that  minister  to  want  and  to 

distress, 
That  into  every  bitter  cup  a  healing  cordial  press. 

They  have  been  long  with  Jesus  !  within  His  blessed 

school, 
They  have  yielded  meek  obedience  to  lesson  and 

to  rule, 
The  wisdom  of  their  teachings  mark  the  graces  ot 

their  speech, 
Which  guides  the  weak  and  ignorant,  yet  may  the 

highest  reach. 

Yes,  they  have  been  with  Jesus !  and  counting  all 

things  dross, 
Have  bent,  for  His  dear  sake,  beneath  the  burden 

of  His  cross ; 
What  chastened,  humbled  souls  are  theirs,  how 

unto  His  akin, 
Thrice  blessed  are  ye  gracious  ones,  all  heaven  is 

yours  to  win. 

66 


THE  FRIEND  OF   THE  LONEL  Y. 


THE   FRIEND   OF   THE   LONELY. 

With  Christ  ever  present,  I  should  not  be  lonely- 
Alone  in  mid  ocean,  or  desert  afar ; 

I  long  for  Thy  presence  !  I  watch  for  Thy  coming 
Who  art  Sun  of  my  day,  who  of  night  art  my 
Star! 


I  have  known  Thee  in  sorrow,  in  joy  I  have  known 
Thee, 
Thou  hast  wiped  away  tears,  in  my  gladness 
been  glad ; 
Thou  hast  pitied  me,  cared  for  me,  borne  with  my 
follies, 
Been  with  me  when  happy,  been  with  me  when 
sad. 


Where  art  Thou  now  ?  of  the  lonely  I'm  lonely  — 
Mid  plenty  I'm  starving,  with  nothing  sufficed 

Friends  gather  round  me,  I  know  them,  I  love  them, 
But  oh  I  am  weary,  aweary  for  Christ. 
67 


UNDER  THE  ROD. 


Ah,  let  me  be  weary  !     But  let  me  be  patient ; 
If  Thou  hast  been  mine,  Lord,  then  still  Thou 
art  mine ; 
Weeping  through  midnight  may  last,  but  the  morn- 
ing, 
Sooner  or  late  through  the  darkness  shall  shine. 


UNDER  THE    ROD. 

In  vain  I  seek  to  hide  it  from  myself, 
My  heart  is  sorrowful,  is  full  of  tears  ; 

New  grief  awakes  the  echoes  of  the  past, 
I  live  again  through  pangs  of  parted  years. 

Dear  Jesus,  it  is  well !  here  at  Thy  feet 

I  thank  Thee  for  the  past,  the  present  press 

Close  to  my  heart  of  hearts  ;  I  love  Thy  blows, 
Would  not  evade  them,  would  not  wish  them 
less. 

How  wise,  how  good  Thou  art !  my  wayward  will 
Left  to  itself  would  lead  me  all  astray, 

My  wisdom  is  all  ignorance,  nor  can 

My  blinded  eyes  trace  out  Thy  perfect  way. 
68 


UNDER  THE  ROD. 


I  want  to  be  like  Thee,  I  want  to  dwell 
Forever  with  Thee,  and  full  well  I  know 

Thy  path  is  lowly,  full  of  thorns,  yet  there 

Where  Thou  hast  been  Thy  followers  must  go. 

I  want  a  spirit  that  shall  strive  and  cry 

No  more,  dear  Lord,  but  meek  and  humble  be, 

I  want  the  lowly  temper  of  a  child, 
Its  weanedness,  and  its  docility. 

Thou  who  hast  sent  this  sorrow,  send  with  it 
A  supple  will  that  yields  itself  to  Thine ; 

That  blends  itself,  is  lost  in  Thy  dear  will, 

That  henceforth  shall  of  nought  say,  "  This  is 
mine  !" 

Yea,  on  the  pathway  of  this  sorest  pain, 

I  come  to  meet  Thee,  wilt  Thou  condescend, 

To  let  me  find  Thee  in  it,  who  art  more, 

Ten  thousand  more  than  dearest  earthly  friend 


69 


THE   WORK  OF  PEACE. 


THE   WORK   OF   PEACE. 

Let  me  not  wait  for  a  new  grief  to  prove  me, 
But  now  while  all  around  me  wears  a  smile, 

Dear  Jesus,  with  new  love  oh  let  me  love  Thee, 
With  gladder  thoughts  of  Thee  the  way  beguile. 

I  want  to  love  Thee  more,  to  feel  Thee  dearer, 
To  honor  Thee  in  word  and  look  and  tone, 

I  want  to  feel  Thee  ever  drawing  nearer, 

To  be  more  Thine,  and  to  be  less  mine  own. 

Sorrow  in  times  now  past  has  often  laid  me 
Humble,  and  empty,  down  at  Thy  dear  feet, 

She  only  broken-hearted  could  have  made  me, 
And  taught  me  to  find  tribulation  sweet. 

Shall  peace  and  joy  do  less  for  me  than  sorrow  ? 

Canst  Thou  not  make  them  also  lay  me  low  ? 
From  them  too  also  may  my  soul  not  borrow 

Guidance  to  Thee  ?  of  Thee  yet  more  to  know? 

Oh  lead  me  on,  my  Saviour,  bide  no  halting — ■ 
On  to  the  secret  spot  where  Thou  dost  dwell— 
70 


WHY  EMPTY  AND  SAD. 


Lead  me  beyond  temptation's  rude  assaulting — 
Led  on  by  joy  or  sorrow,  all  is  well ! 


WHY   EMPTY   AND   SAD? 

Other  hearts  are  full,  are  full  of  Jesus, 
Why  is  thine  so  empty  and  so  sad  ? 

Is  it  not  His  work  to  cheer  and  please  us, 
Is  there  nothing  in  Him  to  make  glad  ? 

Say  not  thou  are  stript  of  all  thy  treasures — 
Rather  say  the  bands  that  held  me  fast, 

Have  been  rent  in  twain  that  higher  pleasures 
My  poor,  starving  soul  may  seek  at  last. 

Ah,  no  words  there  are  to  tell  the  sweetness 
Of  the  soul,  that,  letting  all  things  go, 

Finds  itself  at  rest  in  Christ's  completeness, 
Finds  Him  solace  for  its  every  woe. 

Yet  the  song  has  rung  through  all  the  ages, 

Oft  the  story  sufferers  have  told ; 
How  He  lighted  up  life's  darkest  pages, 

Bound,  with  his  own  hands,  the  tale  in  gold  ! 
7i 


REST. 


Come  and  try,  thou  sad  and  sorrowing  spirit, 
What  He  is  in  loss,  and  grief,  and  pain ; 

Thou  for  mourning  shall  His  peace  inherit, 
And  for  sighs  take  up  a  joyful  strain. 


REST. 

Ah,  there  is  much  in  this  strange  life  that  saddens, 
And  much  that  brings  discomfort  and  unrest, 

And  there  is  much  that  beautifies  and  gladdens, 
Foretaste  of  heaven's  fulness  mid  the  blest. 

Sadness    looks    downward ;    sees    the    shadows 
lengthen, 
Mid  graves  of  the  departed  loves  to  roam  ; 
Gladness  looks  upward,  ebbing  faith  to  strengthen, 
Lives  in    the   promised  land   and  bears   right 
home. 

I  know  them  both.     I  have  clasped  hands  with 
sorrow, 
And  through  the  ranks  of  long  succeeding  years. 
Have  said  I  cannot  boast  me  of  to-morrow, 
My  bread  a  stony  grief,  my  drink  but  tears. 
72 


REST 

And  I  know  joy  ;  the  joy  that  is  victorious 
O'er  pain  and  smart,  that  triumphs  in  despair, 

That  leoks  at  suffering  and  declares  it  glorious 
To  weep  with  Christ,  His  fellowship  to  share. 

And  now  if  He  should  come  and  freely  offer 
To  let  me  make  of  one  of  these  my  choice, 

Should  I,  with  grateful  heart,  accept  the  proffer, 
And  in  this  freedom  of  my  will  rejoice  ? 

Oh  no  !  I  want  not  freedom  !     Give  me  rather 
Sense  of  Thy  will,  my  God,  opposed  to  mine, 

I  am  a  little  child,  and  Thou  my  Father, 

I  have  no  rights,  they  all  are  merged  in  Thine. 

Give  me  or  pain  or  gladness  at  Thy  pleasure, 
Give  what   Thy  wisdom    and   Thy   love   may 
choose, 

But  be  Thou  of  my  soul  the  hidden  treasure, 
And  all  that  soul's  defilement  let  me  lose. 

For  oh,  I  would  be  Thine,  would  walk  beside 
Thee, 

73 


CHRIST  ON  THE  SHORE. 


Would  know  Thee  who  Thou   art,  Thy  face 
would  see, 
My  heart  is  fixed,  whatever  may  betide  me, 
It  shall  have  rest,  for  there  is  rest  in  Thee. 


CHRIST   ON   THE  SHORE. 

Lord,  blessed  be  Thy  name  that  Thou  dost  stand 
Upon  life's  shore  to  regulate  the  flow 

Of  its  wide  ocean  ;  that  Thy  grace  has  planned 
Its  boundaries,  doth  all  its  motions  know. 

For  if  its  tides  were  ever  coming  in, 

All  would  give  way  before  its  tumult  wild ; 

We  should  become  the  sport  of  pain  and  sin, 
Tossed  on  the  raging  billows,  like  a  child. 

Cheer  then,  thou  tempted  soul !  though  for  awhile 
The  tempest  sweep  thee  with  resistless  might, 

The  tide  shall  ebb,  and  thou  again  shalt  smile 
On  peaceful  waters,  sparkling  through  the  night. 

And    cheer  thyself,    poor  heart !    this  storm  of 
pain 
That  sweeps  thee  all  before  it,  shall  be  stayed, 
74 


CHRIST  ON  THE  SHORE. 


The  Son  of  God  will  hurl  it  back  again, 

Whose  mighty  hand  hath  earth's  foundations 
laid. 

Thus  far  the  waves  may  come,  but  when  they  reach 
His  chosen  limits,  thou  art  safe,  art  free ; 

He  lets  them  loose  upon  thee,  but  to  teach 
How  strong,  how  merciful,  His  arm  can  be. 

Thou  art  no  thing  of  chance  ;  His  watchful  eye 
Notes  just  how  far  thou  on  the  shore  art  thrown  ; 

Bruised,  buffeted,  bewildered,  thou  mayst  be, 
But  dost  not  suffer  friendless  and  alone. 

Cheer  thee,  faint  heart !     Beyond   the  ebb  and 
flow 

Of  mortal  shores,  there  shines  a  crystal  sea, 
Where  thou  shalt  lie  at  rest,  and  cease  to  know 

Floods  of  temptation,  waves  of  agony. 

There  ever  dwells  on  that  eternal  shore, 
The  risen  Son  of  God ;  to  make  it  thine, 

The  fearful  winds  and  waves  of  time  He  bore, 
Tempted,  yet  sinless ;  suffering,  yet  divine. 
75 


A  T  CHRIST S  TABLE. 


Cheer  thee,  sad  heart !      In  smiling  ranks  there 
stand 
Millions  of  rescued  souls,  for  aye  at  rest ; 
Rough   waves   and   billows   tossed   them   to   the 
strand, 
Not  rougher  are  the  waves  that  thou  must  breast. 


AT   CHRIST'S   TABLE. 

I  go  to  meet  Thee  at  Thy  table,  Lord, 

Hear  Thou  my  prayer, 
The  inmost,  deepest  longing  of  my  heart, 

And  meet  me  there. 

The  wedding-garment  of  Thy  righteousness 

Do  Thou  prepare, 
And  with  the  hands  that  once  for  me  were'pierced, 

Enrobe  me  there. 

Reveal  to  me  the  burden  of  the  cross 

Thou  once  didst  bear, 
Let  me  too  bend  beneath  it  and  behold 

And  love  Thee  there. 
76 


IS  THE  HEART  READY? 


And  when  the  feast  is  spread,  choose  Thou  a  great 

Or  scanty  share 
For  me,  as  best  it  pleaseth  Thee,  and  deign 

To  feed  me  there. 

Sweet  festival !  Sweet  Lord  !  Sweet  bread  and  wine 

I  will  repair 
To  it  in  love  and  silent  gratitude ; 

O  Christ,  be  there  ! 


IS   THE   HEART   READY? 

Lord,  is  my  heart  prepared  to  meet 

The  answer  to  its  prayers, 
To  stoop  at  Thy  behest,  beneath 

The  cross  that  Jesus  bears, 
To  smart  beneath  the  scorn  and  shame 
That  they  must  taste  who  own  His  name  ? 

Thou  who  canst  penetrate  the  folds 

That  hide  my  feeble  faith, 
Bring  forth  and  try  it,  heeding  not 

What  my  poor  nature  saith — 
77 


IS  THE  HEART  READY? 


I  would  be  fully  known  to  Thee, 
As  I  would  have  Thee  known  to  me. 

Ah,  let  my  words  fall  far  below 

The  fervor  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  not  offer  Thee  a  part 

But  freely  give  the  whole, 
Jesus  my  Lord,  in  asking  this, 
I  ask  both  poverty  and  bliss. 

For  he  who  empty  is  alone, 
Can  by  Thy  grace  be  filled, 

The  thirsty,  hungry  soul,  Thy  hand 
Alone  to  reach  is  skilled ; 

And  yet  how  faint  that  soul  must  be 

Ere  it  will  own  its  all  to  Thee ! 

But  when,  with  hardly  strength  to  cry, 

It  casts  its  languid  eye 
Upon  Thy  riches,  a  new  life 

Will  through  its  pulses  fly ; 
Thenceforth  how  truly  it  will  rest, 
An  infant  on  its  mother's  breast. 


78 


GOD  IS  HERE. 


"GOD   IS   HERE." 

I. 

Within  a  desert's  rough  embrace 

A  single  flower  was  thrown ; 
Denied  communion  with  her  race 
She  stood  in  this  wide  dwelling-place 
Neglected  and  alone. 

ii. 

Yet,  mid  this  changeless  solitude 

She  sighed  not  to  be  great, 
Secure  from  pride's  impatient  mood, 
It  was  her  pleasant  daily  food, 
Her  Master's  time  to  wait. 

in. 
A  weary  traveler  passed  that  way — 

That  weary  way,  at  length, — 
With  trustless  heart  and  faint,  he  lay 
Upon  the  sands,  to  weep  away 
His  manliness  and  strength. 
79 


GOD  IS  HERE. 


IV. 
The  little  stranger  flower  was  nigh — 

Her  voice  was  on  his  ear, 
And  faith  and  joyful  trust,  sprang  high 
To  weary  limb  and  heart  and  eye, 

From  her  brief,  "God  is  here  T 

v. 

Uprose  the  fainting  man,  and  blessed 
The  truth,  and  blessed  the  flower; 
Companionship  and  life  and  rest, 
As  future  paths  his  footsteps  pressed, 
Were  his,  from  that  bright  hour. 

VI. 

Oh  thou  !  who  livest  a  useless  thing, 
Thine  errand  here  much  questioning, 

%i  Hope  on  !  hope  ever  !" 
Dwelling  from  worldly  toil  apart, 
Thy  voice  through  some  distrusting  heart 

Shall  thrill  forever. 
Wait  on,  wait  on,  do  not  thou  fear, 
If  thou  canst  only  whisper,  "  God is  here  !" 


80 


1'HE  SCHOOL. 


THE    SCHOOL. 

I. 

We  are  scholars,  nothing  but  scholais, 

Little  children  at  school, 
Learning  our  daily  lessons, 

Subject  to  law  and  rule. 

ii. 
Life  is  the  school,  and  the  Master 

Is  the  Man  Jesus  Christ, 
We  are  His  charity  scholars, 

His  the  teaching  unpriced. 

in. 
Slowly  we  learn,  all  His  patience 

Is  hourly  put  to  the  test ; 
But  often  the  slowest  and  dullest, 

He  pities  and  loves  the  best. 

IV. 

Still,  we  sit  at  the  feet  of  our  Master, 

Very  low  at  His  feet. 
6  81 


THE  SCHCOL. 


Study  the  lessons  He  sets  us, 
Sometimes  lessons  repeat. 

v. 
Some  of  the  lessons  are  pleasant, 

Pleasant,  and  easy  to  learn ; 
The  page  of  our  task-book  simple, 

Simple  and  easy  to  turn. 

VI. 

But  anon  the  reading  is  painful, 
Studied  mid  sighing  and  tears  ; 

We  stammer  and  falter  over  it, 
Do  not  learn  it  for  years. 

VII. 

Yet  that  is  no  fault  of  the  Master; 

All  His  lessons  are  good  ; 
Only  our  childish  folly 

Leaves  them  misunderstood. 

VIII. 

And  still  we  go  on,  learning, 

And  learning  to  love  our  school ; 
82 


MY  KIXDRED. 


Learning  to  love  our  Master, 
Learning  to  love  His  rule. 

IX. 

And  by  and  by,  we  children 
Shall  grow  into  perfect  men, 

And  the  loving,  patient  Master 
From  school  will  dismiss  us  then. 

x. 

No  more  tedious  lessons, 
No  more  sighing  and  tears, 

But  a  bound  into  home  immortal, 
And  blessed,  blessed  years  ! 


MY   KINDRED. 
Oh  that  this  heart,  with  grief  so  well  acquainted 
Might  be  a  fountain  rich  and  sweet  and  full 
For  all  the  weary  that  have  fall'n  and  fainted 
In  life's  parched  desert,  thirsty,  sorrowful ! 

Come  unto  me,  my  kindred!  I  enfold  you 
In  an  embrace  to  sufferers  only  known, 
Close  to  this  heart  I  tenderly  will  hold  you, 
Suppress  no  sigh,  keep  back  no  tear,  no  groan. 
83 


M  Y  KINDRED. 


Yes,  weep  upon  this  bosom,  that  upheaving 
With  anguish  upon  anguish,  knows  full  well, 
Of  grief  that  had  not  respite  or  reprieving, 
Of  tides  that  on  a  shoreless  ocean  swell. 

And  can  I  give  you  joy  and  rest  and  healing? 
Can  I,  a  human  sufferer  at  best, 
Restore  the  current  calm  of  peaceful  feeling, 
And  to  your  weariness  give  welcome  rest  ? 

Nay,  but  I  know  Who  can  !  My  Lord  and  Master 
Give  me  brave  words  with  which  to  speak  of  Thee, 
Oh  let  my  grateful  tears  flow  sweeter,  faster, 
At  the  remembrance  of  Thy  sympathy ! 

Thou  Man  of  Sorrows,  teach  my  lips,  that  often 
Have  told  the  sacred  story  of  my  woe, 
To  speak  of  Thee  till  stony  griefs  I  soften, 
Till  hearts  that  know  Thee  not,  learn  Thee  to 

know. 
Till  peace  takes  place  of  storm  and  agitation, 
Till  lying  on  the  current  of  Thy  will, 
There  shall  be  glorying  in  tribulation, 
And  Christ  Himself  each  empty  heart  shall  fill. 
84 


CHRIST  ASKS  FOR  ALL. 


Oh  Jesus  !  Sweet  Chastiser !  Thanks  I  render 
For  aching  heart,  for  pain-contracted  brow, 
For  thus  alone  I  learned  how  true,  how  tender, 
How  beautiful,  how  beautiful  art  Thou ! 


CHRIST  ASKS   FOR  ALL. 

A  jealous  lover  art  Thou,  oh  my  God, 

Asking  my  all  from  me  ; 
Is  it  too  much  to  give  ?    Can  I  refuse 
This  all  to  Thee  ? 

I  cannot  trust  myself,  for  while  I  say, 

All  that  I  have  is  Thine, 
There  may  be  hidden  in  my  inmost  heart 
Some  thing  yet  mine. 

I  may  be  clinging,  though  I  know  it  not, 

To  some  long-cherished  joy ; 
I  may  be  clasping,  with  a  childish  heart, 
Some  childish  toy. 

I  would  not  have  it  thus !    I  would  let  go 
Of  every  outward  thing, 
*5 


THE  UNSEEN  SPIRIT. 


That  I  with  empty  hands,  my  dearest  Lord, 
To  Thee  may  cling. 

Thou  art  enough  to  satisfy  my  heart ; 
Long  years  have  taught  me  this, 
Take  all,  but  leave  Thyself,  I  cannot  ask 
A  greater  bliss. 


THE  UNSEEN  SPIRIT. 

When  busy  with  my  household  tasks  throughout 

the  live-long  day 
An  unseen  Spirit   walks  with  me  and  over  me 

holds  sway. 

When    I   walk   the   city's    crowded   streets,    that 

Spirit  walks  with  me 
Interpreting  and  putting  home  each  object  that 

I  see. 

When  through  the  woods  I  wander  lost  in  wonder 
and  delight 

86 


THE   UXZEEX  SPIRIT. 


That  Spirit  still  is  with  me  making  every  thing 
look  bright. 

When  friends  are  clustered  round  me,  the  Spirit 

too,  is  there, 
Making  loving  hearts  more  loving,  and  fair  faces 

seem  more  fair. 

He  speaks  to  me  in  whispers  that  I  alone  can  hear, 
Speaks  of  God  and  Christ  and  heaven,  in  accents 
sweet  and  clear. 

He  urges  me  to  faithfulness,  He  quickens  me  in 

prayer, 
He  utters  precious  promises  in  moments  of  despair. 

Do  I  love  this  unseen  Spirit,  do  I  follow  His  be- 
hest, 

Do  I  pray  Him  to  abide  with  me  forever  in  my 
breast  ? 

\h  yes !    I    truly  love   Him !    but   for   Him    my 

truant  heart, 
'rom  every  holy  habit  forever  would  depart. 
87 


A  PRARER  FOR  CHARITY. 


But  for  Him  I  should  relapse  into  worldliness  and 

sin, 
Should    prove    a   traitor    shameful,   and   let   the 

Tempter  in. 

Oh  blessed,  holy  Spirit !  Oh  never,  never  leave 
My  heart  a  single  moment,  lest  I  Thy  love  should 
grieve. 

With  Thee  I  can  do  all  things,  but  if  Thou  turn 

away, 
I,   faithless   and   ungrateful,    should    forever    go 

astray ! 


A  PRAYER   FOR   CHARITY. 

I. 

O  Lord,  Thou  pitiest  more  than  Thou  dost  blame 

My  sin  and  shame ; — 
When  I,  a  fallen  creature,  do  condemn 
My  brother -man,  and  do  his  sin  contemn, 
Thou  to  the  downcast  sinner  bring'st  release, 
'Neither  do  I  condemn  thee,  go  in  peace." 


AT  J  ECUS'  FEET. 


II. 

Oh  for  a  spirit  unto  Thine  akin ! 

Oh  but  to  win 
A  heart  of  love,  a  patience  like  to  Thine, 
To  gain  a  charity,  a  love,  divine  ! 
In  this  sad  moment  when  I  see  my  need, 
Grant  Thou  the  blessing  rare  for  which  I  plead. 

in. 
And  when  my  brother  falls,  help  me  to  cry 

This  might  be  I ; 
Thus  I,  too,  should  descend  without  God's  grace ! 
Grant  me  to  look  into  his  downcast  face, 
With  sweet  compassion  shining  upon  mine 
[n  heartfelt  memory  of  deeds  of  Thine  ! 


AT  JESUS'   FEET. 

There  is  a  spot  where  tempted  souls 

May  find  a  dear  retreat : 
They  fly  from  sin  and  self,  and  lie 
At  Jesus'  feet. 
89 


A  STEADFAST  HEART, 


In  vain  upon  their  heads,  the  storms 

Of  life  may  rudely  beat, 
Grief  cannot  harm  the  soul  that  lies 
At  Jesus'  feet. 

My  soul,  upon  life's  dizzy  heights 

Beware  to  take  thy  seat, 
Leave  not  the  valley,  but  abide 
At  Jesus'  feet. 

Would'st  thou  in  peace,  and  joy  and  love 

And  gladness,  stand  complete  ? 
Seek  it  in  penitence  and  faith, 
At  Jesus'  feet. 


A   STEADFAST   HEART. 

Keep  my  heart  steadfast,  dearest  Lord 
For  earth's  allurements  shine, 

And  bid  me  turn  mine  eye  away 
From  looking  into  Thine. 
90 


DEA  TH. 


Oh  keep  me  steadfast !     Earthly  tones 

Fall  sweetly  on  my  ear, 
And  while  I  pause  to  list  to  them 

Thy  voice  I  cannot  hear. 

Oh  keep  me  steadfast !     Human  smiles 

Delude  my  childish  heart ; 
While  rapt  in  them  how  easily 

From  Thee  I  can  depart. 

Yes  keep  me,  keep  me,  for  myself 

I  cannot,  cannot  keep ; 
Keep  me  by  day,  keep  me  by  night 

O  Thou  who  dost  not  sleep. 


DEATH. 

I  think  of  Death  as  of  a  friend  and  brother 
Who,  some  bright  day,  will  come  and  call  for  mc 

And  lead  me  to  the  presence  of  Another 
With  whom  I  long  have  pined  at  home  to  be. 

I  know  not  in  what  form,  or  mid  what  guises 
He  will  approach  me,  only  this  I  know, 
91 


DBA  TH. 


If  he  at  midnight  or  at  noon  surprises, 
I  shall  clasp  hands  with  him  and  gladly  go. 

Have  I  then  nothing  that  to  earth  can  bind  me? 

Has  all  my  oil  of  gladness  been  consumed  ? 
Shall  not  I  cast  one  lingering  look  behind  me, 

Regretting  flowers  that  but  for  me  have  bloomed  ? 

Ah,  there  are  few  on  earth  whose  human  treasures 
More  manifold,  and  costlier  are,  than  mine ; 

My  life  is  full  of  joys  and  full  of  pleasures, 
Full  of  the  oil  of  gladness  and  its  wine. 

But  oh,  to  go  to  be  with  Christ  forever! 

To  see  His  face,  His  wondrous  voice  to  hear ! 
Never  again  from  Him  I  love  to  sever, 

Never  to  miss  His  accents  on  my  ear ! 

So  then,  my  brother,  Death,  for  thee  I'm  ready; 

I  wait,  yet  woo  thee  not,  abide  God's  time ; 
My  heart  is  fixed,  my  footsteps  calm  and  steady; 

So  lead  me  on  to  destiny  sublime. 

Lead  me  to  Christ,  lead  from  all  power  of  sinning, 
Lead  me  to  those  who  in  His  image  shine  ■ 
92 


GOD'S  SAINTS. 


This  will  of  life  be  only  the  beginning, 
And  birth,  not  death,  through  thee,  shall  then 
be  mine. 


GOD'S   SAINTS. 

God  has  His  saints  upon  the  earth 

Who  love  Him  more  than  I, 
Whose  hearts  are  more  attuned  to  His, 

And  yet  I  know  not  why. 

Who  has  more  reason  to  fall  down 

Before  the  Father's  face, 
To  thank  Him  for  His  sparing  love, 

For  His  redeeming  grace  ? 

Whose  tears  of  gratitude  should  gush 

From  fountains  full  and  free, 
At  memory  of  more  tenderness 

Than  Thou  hast  shown  to  me  ? 

Lord  make  me  love  Thee  !     Take  my  hearty 

Establish  there  Thy  throne, 
I  would  be  Thine,  would  have  Thee  mine, 

O  make  me  all  Thine  own. 
93 


MY  EXPECT  A  TION  IS  hROM  THEE. 


MY   EXPECTATION  IS   FROM   THEE. 

Lord,  I  have  nothing,  in  myself  am  nought, 
Weak  as  a  bruised  reed  Thou  findest  me ; 

And  yet  I  dare  to  call  myself  Thy  child, 
Because  my  expectation  is  from  Thee. 

I  am  so  poor  in  grace,  so  weak  in  faith, 
Seek  Thee  so  feebly  on  the  bended  knee ; 

And  yet  I  must  keep  seeking,  still  aspire 
Because  my  expectation  is  from  Thee. 

I  long  so  for  Thy  presence,  yet  how  oft 

My  sins  constrain  me  from  Thy  face  to  flee ; 

I  grieve,  I  falter,  but  hold  on  my  way 
Because  my  expectation  is  from  Thee. 

I  do  the  deeds  I  would  not,  leave  undone 
The  gracious  work  that  should  completed  be ; 

I  am  ashamed  and  sorry,  yet  hope  on, 
Because  my  expectation  is  from  Thee. 

And  the  dread  enemy  of  my  poor  soul 
Tempts  me  to  yield  and  fail ;  but  even  he 
94 


WHA  T  CHRIST  CAN  BE. 


Gives  place  at  mention  of  Thy  dearest  name 
Because  my  expectation  is  from  Thee. 

So  self-renouncing,  desperate  in  myself, 
My  fallen  ruins  I  can  calmly  see, 

For  when  I  poorest  am,  all  lost  and  gone, 
My  only  expectation  is  from  Thee. 


WHAT   CHRIST   CAN   BE. 

Oh  that  some  faithful  soul  could  tell 
What  Jesus  Christ  can  be, 

To  the  distracted  soul  that  sinks 
In  sorrow's  briny  sea, 

And  casts  a  last  despairing  look 
To  His  wide  sympathy. 

No  mother's  hand  with  clasp  so  soft, 
-  So  true,  so  kind  can  press, 
And  of  the  gentle,  loving  tone 

A  mother's  voice  has  less ; 
Yea,  she  that  bare  thee  is  but  rough 
To  Jesus'  tenderness. 
95 


WHA  T  CHRIST  CAN  BE. 


Come  and  behold  what  Jesus  is ; 

Into  His  gracious  ear 
Pour  all  the  story  of  thy  grief, 

Whisper  thine  every  fear, 
And  on  His  sympathizing  breast, 

Weep  out  thine  every  tear. 

Then  first  the  risen  Son  of  God 

Shall  unto  thee  be  known, 
Then  only  canst  thou  feel  his  heart 

Respond  to  every  groan, 
And  echo  to  the  bursting  sigh, 

The  plaintive,  helpless  moan. 

Ah  joyful  hearts  that  know  not  grief 

Can  never  Jesus  know  ; 
He  must  be  learned  in  darksome  nights, 

Where  bitter  fountains  flow, 
Where  souls  are  floated  off  to  sea 

By  tides  of  earthly  woe. 

There  have  I  met  Thee,  dearest  Lord  ! 
And  oh  how  passing  sweet, 
96 


THE  SEA    OF  FIRE. 


Was  to  my  sinking  soul,  the  sound 
Of  Thine  approaching  feet — 

To  point  Thee  out  to  drowning  ones, 
Oh  make  me,  make  me  meet ! 


THE   SEA   OF   FIRE. 

Ah,  dearest  Master,  art  Thou  really  purging 
My  sinful  soul  within  this  sea  of  fire  ? 

To  deeper  consecration  art  Thou  urging, 
Plunging  me  lower  but  to  call  me  higher  ? 

Small  is  the  pain,  not  wearisome  the  bearing 
The  cross  Thy  hand  in  mercy  lays  on  me ; 

Oh  let  it  urge  me  from  the  path  ensnaring, 
And  lead  me  nearer,  ever  nearer  Thee. 

Pain,  in  itself,  I  love  not,  but  its  teachings 

Have  been  so  precious,  so  have   made  Thee 
known, 
That  my  whole  soul  is  making  tender  Teachings, 
To  meet  it  as  it  comes,  to  hear  its  tone. 
7  97 


ST  A  YING   THERE— COMING   BACK. 

Oh  come  Thou  with  it !  I  am  very  weary 

Of  prosperous  days  that  hide  Thy  blessed  face ; 

The  brightest  sunshine  makes  the  landscape  dreaiy, 
That  is  not  luminous  with  Thine  own  grace. 


STAYING   THERE— COMING   BACK. 

We  laid  her  tenderly  away,  within  her  silent  bed — 

A  bed  of  living  flowers  of  love,  trees  waving  over- 
head ; 

With  prayers  and  tears  and  parting  hymn,  we  left 
our  darling  there, 

And  we  came  back  to  life's  old  work,  to  miss  her 
everywhere. 

We  had  a  single  path  before,  and  walked  it  hand 
in  hand, 

But  she  was  weary,  stopped  to  rest,  was  parted 
from  our  band ; 

We  left  her  lying  there  alone,  a  smile  upon  her 
face, 

And  we  came  back,  as  tired  as  she,  to  see  her  va- 
cant place ; 

Left  her  to  sleep  in  dreamless  peace,  beneath  those 
guardian  trees, 

Q8 


STAYING  THERE— COMING  BACK. 

Came  back  to  nights  of  wakeful  grief,  and  speech- 
less agonies, 
Came  back  to  grapple  with  our  hearts,  to  falter  on 

our  way, 
To  find  no  language  for  our  grief,  no  wo;ds  with 

which  to  pray, 
Left  her  in  garments  that  the  dust  of  sin  can  never 

soil, 
Hers  all  the  joy  and  all  the  rest,  and  ours  all  the 

toil. 
Farewell,  beloved  !  all  is  well,  we  gladly  leave  thee 

there, 
Come  not  thou  back  again  to  us  to  join  us  in  life's 

care ; 
Our  turn  will  come  in  God's  own  time,  and  we 

shall  sleep  with  thee, 
Where  birds  can  sing,  and  flowerets  bloom,  and 

grass  wave  peacefully — 
Till  then  thy  flesh  shall  rest  in  hope,  and  we  will 

wait  the  day 
When  tender  hands  shall  lay  as  down,  to  sleep  our 

grief  away. 


99 


DRA  W  NEARER. 


DRAW   NEARER! 

Draw  nearer,  O  my  Saviour,  to  my  soul, 
For  Thou  art  all,  and  all  in  all,  to  me, 

Because  I  feel  Thee  near  I  want  Thee  more, 
Because  I  love  Thee  would  more  loving  be. 

I  am  so  glad  in  Thee !     A  single  smile 

A  single  glance   from   Thee,   can   rapture 
wake, 

That  finds  no  words  with  which  to  tell  its  tale, 
And  with  its  joy  my  heart  is  like  to  break. 

Draw  nearer,  nearer  yet,  reveal  Thyself 
To  me,  Thy  child,  and  oh  dear  Lord,  do 
Thou 
If  Thou  hast  any  blessings  in  reserve, 

Open  Thine  hand  and  give  those  blessings 
now. 

Thou  canst  give  nothing  that  I  do  not  need, 
For  I  am  very  poor,  and  if  I  might 

Choose  for  myself,  I  would  not  dare  to  choose, 
I  am  too  ignorant  to  ask  aright. 


AND   YE  ARE  CHRIST S. 


And  when  I  pray  Thee  to  crowd  out  of  me 
This  monster,  Self,  and  then  to  enter  in 

And  take  possession,  as  a  peaceful  Guest, 
Do  I  not  ask  deliverance  from  sin  ? 

Do  I  not  ask,  within  the  compass  small 

Of  these  few  words,  all  that  there  is  to  give  ? 

Come  then,  my  Saviour,  make  Thyself  a  home 
Within  this  breast,  and  ever  in  it  live. 

Self  gone  forever,  do  Thou  reign,  O  Christ, 
The  Conq'rcr  of  the  conquered,  and  for  aye, 

Over  each  spring  of  action  and  of  thought, 
Hold  Thou  within  me  undisputed  sway  ! 


"AND  YE  ARE   CHRIST'S." 

'•*  Ye  are  not  your  own,  bought,"  etc 

14  If  the  Son  therefore  shall  make  you  free,  ye  shall  be  free  Indeed." 

And  we  are  Christ's  !     What  precious  words, 
'  And  oh!  the  wondrous  thought, 
That  we  are  not  our  own  but  His, 
That  He  our  souls  has  bought. 

IOI 


AND   YE  ARE  CHRIST  S. 


Poor  slaves  to  sin  and  self,  how  hard 

How  wearisome  our  lot, 
We  ate  the  bread  of  servitude, 

Toiled  ever,  rested  not. 

But  Christ  is  Master  now,  and  He 

Has  set  the  captives  free, 
We  weep  no  more,  but  sing  the  song, 

Of  perfect  liberty. 

Yes,  we  are  free  to  live  for  Him, 

Free  to  accept  His  grace, 
To  sing  His  praises,  love  His  name, 

To  see  His  dearest  face. 

Such  is  the  freedom  that  our  hearts 
Have  fondly  learned  to  crave, 

The  freedom  that  the  Master's  hand 
In  loving  bounty  gave. 

Yes,  we  are  Christ's,  His  freedmen  we, 

We  are  both  bond  and  free, 
Free  by  His  choice  and  bond  by  ours — 

So  let  us  ever  be. 


WHEREIN  TO  GLORY. 


WHEREIN    TO   GLORY. 

"Let  h'"m  that  glorieth  glory  in   this,   that   he   under; tandeth   and 
knoweth  me." — Jer.  9  :  24. 

Lord,  have  I  anything  of  which  to  boast, 

Of  aught  to  glory, 
Who  of  myself  can  only  sigh,  and  tell 

The  old,  sad  story  ? 

Ah  yes !  for  Thou  hast  stooped  low  down  to  me, 

Hast  kindly  sought  me, 
And  who  and  what  Thou  art  through  long  long 
years 

Hast  taught  and  taught  me. 

Slowly  I  learned,  for  I  was  dull  of  brain, 

Cold  in  affection ; 
I  was  a  heedless  scholar,  giddy,  childish, 

Without  reflection. 

Yet  now,  my  Teacher  patient,  Thee  I  know, 

Glory  in  knowing ! 
Each  hour,  each  day,  a  grace,  a  beauty  new, 

To  me  is  showing. 
103 


IS  IT  WELL    WITH  THE  CHILD. 

Absorbed  in  this  lesson,  all  about  me 
Looks  dim  and  meagre, 

To  learn  it  wholly,  learn  it  all  by  heart, 
How  am  I  eager ! 

Oh  condescend  to  tell  me,  then  my  Master 
The  whole  dear  story, 

And  Thy  rapt  listener  with  grateful  joy 
In  Thee  shall  glory  ! 


"IS  IT  WELL  WITH   THE  CHILD?" 

Yes,  it  is  well !  For  he  has  gone  from  me, 
From  my  poor  care,  my  human  fallacy, 
Straight  to  the  Master's  school,  the  Shepherd's  love. 
Blessed  are  they  whose  training  is  above  ! 
He  will  grow  up  in  Heaven,  will  never  know 
The  conflicts  that  attend  our  life  below. 
He   from  his  earliest  consciousness,  shall  walk 
With  Christ  Himself  in  glory  ;  he  shall  talk 
With  sinless  little  children,  and  his  ear 
No  sound  discordant,  no  harsh  word  shall  hear. 
Nay,  but  I  have  no  words  with  which  to  tell, 
How  well  it  is  with  him — how  well,  how  well ! 
104 


GO  AND  TELL   JESUS. 


"IS  IT  WELL  WITH  THEE?" 

Yes,  it  is  well !  For  while  with  "  anguish  wild," 
I  gave  to  God  who  asked  him,  my  child, 
He  gave  to  me  strong  faith,  and  peace  and  joy ; 
Gave  me  these  blessings  when  he  took  my  boy. 
He  gave  Himself  to  me;  in  boundless  grace 
Within  my  deepest  depths  He  took  His  place ; 
Made  heaven  look  home-like,  made  my  bleeding 

heart 
In  all  the  grief  of  other  hearts  take  part ; 
Brought  down   my   pride,  burnt  up   my   hidden 

dross, 
Made  me  fling  down  the  world  and  clasp  the  cross 
Ah  how  my  inmost  soul  doth  in  me  swell, 
When  I  declare  that  all  with  me  is  well ! 


GO  AND  TELL  JESUS. 

Oh  aching  heart,  oh  restless  brain, 
Go  and  tell  Jesus  of  thy  pain ; 
He  knows  thee,  loves  thee,  and  His  eye 
Beams  with  divinest  sympathy. 
105 


A   WISH. 


Go  and  tell  Jesus;  human  ear 
Thy  mournful  story  may  not  hear ; 
Keep  nothing  back,  for  thee  He  cares, 
His  patient  heart  thy  burden  bears. 

Go  and  tell  Jesus ;  well  He  knows 
The  human  heart ;  its  pangs,  its  throes ; 
He  will  not  fail  Thee,  He  will  be 
Friend,  Comforter,  and  Peace  to  thee. 

Go  and  tell  Jesus ;  never  yet, 
Did  He  a  breaking  heart  forget ; 
Press  closely  to  His  bleeding  side, 
There,  there  thou  shalt  be  satisfied. 


A    WISH. 

Oh  that  with  ready  grace  my  heart  could  give 

What  God  requires ; 
That  there  within  it  lived  no  grasping  will 

No  fond  desires. 
106 


HEALING. 


It  grieves,  it  pains  me  that  I  do  not  fly 

O  Christ,  to  Thee, 
To  lay  this  treasure  at  Thy  feet,  with  sweet 

Alacrity. 

Yet  take  it  from  me ;  if  I  love  it  much, 
I  love  Thee  more, — 
But  pity,  as  Thou  takest,  for  it  leaves 
My  heart  so  sore  ! 


HEALING. 

Low  in  the  dust  of  self-abasement  lying, 
O'er  a  poor,  wasted  life  my  heart  is  sighing, 
Lord  Jesus,  heal  my  soul ! 

I  have  sought  riches,  glory,  comfort,  pleasure ; 
In  Thee  I  saw  no  beauty,  sought  no  treasure ; 
Lord  Jesus,  heal  my  soul ! 

On  husks  the  swine  do  eat  I  have  been  feeding, 
I  have  resisted  all  Thy  tender  pleading ; 
Lord  Jesus,  heal  my  soul ! 
107 


WEARINESS. 


How  sorrowful,  how  spent  I  am,  how  weary, 
Oh  in  this  desert  place  so  dark  and  dreary, 
Lord  Jesus,  heal  my  soul ! 


WEARINESS. 

Ah   is  there,  anywhere,  a  sorer  heart, 

Than  this  sore  heart  of  mine  ? 

Jesus,  have  mercy  on  me,  let  me  lay 
Its  griefs  on  Thine. 

If  Thou  dost  fail  me,  everything  will  fail ; 

Pain  be  too  hard  to  bear ; 
Then  dost  Thou  pity  me  that  I  am  sad  ? 

Lord,  dost  Thou  care  ? 

All  eyes,  save  mine,  may  weep,  but  not  for  me 

Is  the  refreshing  tear  ; 
My  tears  are  prayers,  are  speechless  sighs  and 
groans ; 

O,  dost  Thou  hear  ? 


To8 


EVER  AT  WORK. 


THE   ORANGE-TREE. 

Be  like  the  faithful  plant  that  not  content 
With  bearing  fruitage  as  a  yearly  store, 

While  that  fruit  ripens,  blossoms  out  anew, 

That  they  who  plucked  may  come  and  pluck 
once  more. 

Let  those  who  seek  thee  find  that  blossoms  rare 
Deck  thy  meek  bosom  as  with  bridal  grace, 

Sweet  charity  adorn  thee,  tender  smiles 
Light  up  and  render  beautiful  thy  face. 

And  then  surprise  them  with  a  harvest  full 

Of  glorious  deeds,  who  fancied  they  should  find 

Fragrance  and  loveliness,  but  did  not  dream 
To  gather  also  food  for  heart  and  mind. 


EVER  AT  WORK. 

Ever  at  work,  my  weary  hands 
Might  never  folded  be  ; 

New  tasks  were  ever  given,  and 
There  was  no  rest  for  me. 
109 


EVER  AT  WORK. 


Others  sat  quietly  at  ease 
From  toilsome  labor  free  ; 

I  ceased  not,  for  the  Master  said 
There  was  no  rest  for  me. 

The  busy  world  lay  down  at  night 
And  slept  right  peacefully  ; 

I  could  not  sleep,  upon  my  bed 
There  was  no  rest  for  me. 

I  faltered,  fainted  at  my  task, 

Performed  it  wearily — 
I  had  no  future,  lost  all  hope ; 

There  was  no  rest  for  me. 

At  last,  accustomed  to  the  yoke, 
Rest  ceased  to  be  my  plea, 

I  grew  familiar  with  the  thought 
That  it  was  not  for  me. 

But  when  the  fabric  fair  on  which 

I  worked  unceasingly, 
Was  finished,  lo,  the  Master  cried, 

"  Now  rest  within,  with  Me." 
no 


BACKSLIDING. 


Ah  faithless,  peevish,  childish  heart ! 

The  end  thou  couldst  not  see ; 
The  Master  Builder  did  but  plan 

A  nobler  rest  for  thee  ! 


BACKSLIDING. 

I. 

An  I  am  suffering  now  is  just  the  portion 
Brought  on  myself  by  falling  back  from  Thee 

My  dearest  Friend,  in  folly  most  astounding ; 
Oh  can  I  pardoned,  rescued  can  I  be  ? 

n. 
Canst  Thou  permit  me  to  fall  down  before  Thee, 
Wilt  Thou  contrition  give,  and  wilt  Thou  show 
Once  more  Thy  face  till  I  again  adore  Thee, 
Once  more  Thy  voice  may  hear,  Thy  grace  maj 
know  ? 

in. 
Lord  Jesus,  if  Thou  dost,  I  cannot  promise 

Henceforth  to  serve  and  love  but  Thee  alone ; 
I  cannot  trust  myself,  I  am  unfaithful ; 

Have  often  wandered,  am  to  wander  prone. 


SO  BE  IT. 


IV. 

I  only  come  to  Thee  in  desperation  ; 

Sick  of  myself,  and  every  word  and  deed ; 
Plead  Thou  my  cause,  Thou  friend  of  fallen  sin- 
ners, 

For  me  Thy  erring,  sorrowing  creature  plead. 

And  oh  this  wandering  heart  make  strong  and 
steadfast, 
Fix  Thou  this  will  that  I  may  rove  no  more ; 
Let  me  see  Thee,  who  art  of  love  an  ocean, 

Nor   cast   one   lingering  look   towards   earth's 
shore. 


SO    BE    IT. 

So  be  it ;  'tis  Thy  plan  not  mine, 
And  being  Thine  is  good  ; 

My  God,  my  will  shall  yield  to  Thine 
Ere  it  is  understood. 

So  be  it ;  la  child  of  dust 

Will  not  oppose  Thy  way, 
Move  on,  mysterious  Will,  I  trust, 

I  love,  and  will  obey. 

112 


NEARER  TO  THEE. 


So  be  it ;  and  do  Thou,  my  heart, 
No  childish  questions  ask, 

Thou  in  God's  counsels  hast  no  part, 
Crave  not  so  hard  a  task. 

So  be  it ;  yes,  so  be  it,  Lord, 
No  word  have  I  to  say — 

O  be  Thy  gracious  Name  adored — 
I  love  and  will  obey. 


"NEARER    TO    THEE." 

I  am  alone ;  no  human  eye 

Heeds  where  I  am  or  what  I  do — 

How  shall  I  spend  the  time,  what  work 
What  pastime  shall  I  now  pursue  ? 

If  Thou,  dear  Jesus,  wert  on  earth 
In  human  form,  how  soon  my  feet 

Should  run  to  seek  Thee  ;  how  my  heart 
Would  listen  to  Thy  counsels  sweet. 

This  leisure  hour  would  soon  slip  by, 
If  in  it  I  might  speak  to  Thee, 
8  113 


NEARER  TO  THEE. 


If  I  might  tell  Thee  of  my  love, 

And  know  that  Thou  wert  near  to  me. 


But  since  Thou  art  not  here  on  earth 
In  human  form,  yet  still  draw  nigh 

By  Thy  blest  Spirit,  let  me  feel 
The  Son  of  David  passes  by. 

Give  me  some  token  that  Thou  still 

Canst  look  from  heavenly  heights  above 

With  the  same  pitying  tenderness, 

Which  once  filled  earth  with  sacred  love. 


I  long  to  feel  Thee  near,  to  know 
That  I  a  sinner,  yet  am  Thine, 

And  what  is  more,  beyond  a  doubt, 
To  know  that  Thou  art  truly  mine. 

To  know  and  feel  Thee  just  as  near 
As  they  who  once  embraced  Thy  feet, 

Who  oft  beheld  Thy  sacred  form, 
At  pleasure  could  their  Master  greet 
114 


KIGHT. 


Ah  nothing  less  can  satisfy 

The  heart  that  hungers  so  for  Thee, 
But  waking  in  Thy  likeness,  Lord, 

From  sin  and  sense  forever  free. 


NIGHT. 

Dear  Lord,  I  do  remember  Thou  hast  said 
That  I  may  cast  my  every  care  on  Thee ; 

But  see,  this  deep  oppression  will  not  go, 
But  with  its  leaden  hands  holds  fast  to  me. 

Holds  fast,  and  drags  me  down,  and  shuts  m} 
mouth, 
Strangles  the   cry  that  fain  would  pierce  the 
skies  ; 
Helpless  I  lie  before  Thee,  with  no  words 
Upon  my  lips,  with  sad  yet  tearless  eyes. 

So  be  it,  Lord  ;  my  joyous  soul  has  need 
Of  its  dark  days,  and  in  this  dreary  night, 

Roots  shall  strike  downward,  that  anon  shall  shoot 
In  rich  and  living  branches  to  the  light. 
115 


REST. 


Oh  may  these  branches  bear  some  fruit  for  Thee, 
In  grateful  memory  of  the  loving  hand, 

That  cast  me  in  this  gloomy,  cheerless  spot, 
And  all  its  dreariness  and  darkness  planned. 


REST. 

Rest,  weary  feet ! 
Rest  from  your  ceaseless  wanderings,  your  travels 

to  and  fro, 
The  countless  steps  you  had  to  take,  fatigue  to 

undergo. 
There  are  no  painful  paths  to  tread,  here  is  your 

journey's  end, 
The  quiet  grave  shall  welcome  you  and  be  to  you 

a  friend. 

Rest,  busy  hands ! 

Rest  from  the  labors  that  you  wrought  from  dawn 
to  set  of  sun, 

From  work  that  only  ended  when  another  was  be- 
gun ; 


REST. 

Fold  them  in  peace  and  leisure  now,  they  have  nc 

more  to  do — 
Let  the  poor  tired  servants  rest,  they  have  been 

true  to  you. 

Rest,  beating  heart ! 
Rest  from  thy  joys  tumultuous,  from  sorrow  and 

from  pain, 
It  shall  not  faint  by  joy  consumed,  it  shall  not 

mourn  again, 
Let  it  lie  down  and  rest  awhile,  secure  from  all 

alarm, 
This  grave  knows  how  to  quiet  it,  knows  how  to 

bring  it  balm. 

Rest,  toiling  brain. 
Rest  from  the  vigil  that  consumed,  the  nights  of 

sleepless  care, 
From  thoughts  that  tortured  and  condemned,  from 

tasks  it  could  not  bear; 
Upon  this  pillow,  icy  cold,  within  this  narrow  bed, 
There  lies  no  fevered,  wakeful  mind,  not  any  ach- 
ing head. 

n7 


FAINT  NOT. 


Rest,  eager  soul ! 

Thou  hadst  thy  wings  and  tried  them  oft,  they 
fluttered  back  to  earth, 

Thy  pinions,  not  like  thee,  divine,  knew  not  thy 
heavenly  birth ; 

This  grave  is  not  thy  home  and  end,  mount  up- 
ward and  away — 

Activity  shall  be  thy  rest  from  henceforth  and  for 
aye, 

Thou  shalt  find  blissful  fellowship  with  souls  to 
thine  akin, 

Eternal  gates  shall  open  wide  to  let  the  long- 
sought  in ; 

Thrice  blessed  art  thou,  living  soul !  Spring 
homeward  to  thy  rest, 

Among  the  throngs  that  rest  no  more,  and  are 
forever  blest ! 


FAINT   NOT. 

Faint  not  beneath  the  loving  Hand 
That  wisely  chastens  thee, 

Jesus  will  make  thee  understand 
Why  this  sharp  stroke  must  be. 
tr8 


FAINT  NOT. 


And  if  thy  pains  are  long  drawn  out, 

Oh  weary  not,  be  strong, 
Suffer  in  patience,  Jecus'  love 

Can  do  thy  soul  no  wrong. 

Honor  the  pangs  that  come  from  Him ; 

Give  thanks  for  pain  and  smart, 
Thy  groans  and  sighs  have  echoes  found 

Within  His  sacred  Heart. 

Oh  lonely  Sufferer  !     Oh  Lord, 

What  agonies  were  Thine ! 
Give  us,  Thy  followers,  fellowship 

In  sorrows  so  divine. 

From  thine  own  bitter  cup,  let  all 

Thy  faithful  children  drink, 
Start  we  not  back  like  coward  souls, 

Nor  from  Thy  chastening  shrink. 

We  love  Thee,  choose  Thee,  give  to  us 
What  first  was  given  to  Thee ; 

So  shall  we  in  Thy  likeness  grow, 
And  one  in  heart  with  Thee. 
119 


NOT  POOR. 


NOT    POOR. 

Call  me  not  poor ;  I  nothing  lack, 

For  lo,  a  voice  divine 
Has  made  me  feel  that  I  am  His 

And  told  me  He  is  mine. 


Weep  not  that  on  this  weary  bed, 

I  long  must  droop  and  pine ; 
Here  I  have  learned  the  peace  of  God, 

And  know  that  He  is  mine. 

Nor  mourn  that  He  has  torn  away 

My  idols  from  their  shrine  ; 
Blest  be  the  Hand  that  gave,  that  took, 

For  Jesus  still  is  mine. 

Let  heaven's  own  radiance  through  the  storm 

Of  every  sorrow  shine, 
I  heave  no  sigh,  I  shed  no  tear, 

Am  His,  and  He  is  mine. 


120 


/AT  GRIEF  AND  SHAME. 


IN   GRIEF   AND   SHAME. 

I  lie  before  Thee,  Lord,  just  where  I  ought 

In  grief  and  shame  to  lie  ; 
I  am  not  worthy  of  a  glance  from  Thee ; 

Yet  do  not  pass  me  by. 

I  have  forsaken  Thee,  an  earthly  spring 

Yet  once  again  to  try ; 
It  leaves  me  thirsty,  may  I  come  to  Thee? 

O  do  not  pass  me  by. 

In  a  sad  hour,  a  false,  yet  glittering  prize, 

Caught  and  enticed  my  eye  ; 
I  sought,  and  lost  it,  in  my  grief  and  pain, 

Lord,  do  not  pass  me  by. 

I  am  so  sorrowful,  so  sick  and  faint ; 

Long  so  to  feel  Thee  nigh ; 
Have  pity  on  me,  tempted  Son  of  God, 

And  do  not  pass  me  by. 


121 


IN  REMEMBRANCE  CF  ME. 


"IN    REMEMBRANCE    OF   ME." 

Dear  Jesus,  Thou  this  feast  hast  spread, 

Invited  guests  are  we  ; 
We  come  as  Thou  hast  bid  us  come, 

Thus  to  remember  Thee. 

We  come  from  sinful  thought  and  aim, 

More  earnestly  to  flee  ; 
Pardon  to  seek  and  grace  to  find, 

As  we  remember  Thee. 

We  come  to  thank  Thee  for  Thy  love 

So  rich,  so  full,  so  free ; 
To  bless  Thee,  praise  Thee,  lose  ourselves 

As  we  remember  Thee. 

We  come  to  lay  the  burdens  down 

That  press  most  heavily  ; 
To  enter  into  perfect  peace 

As  we  remember  Thee. 

Our  penitence,  our  love,  our  hope, 
Oh  condescend  to  see, 

A  22 


HE  M  US  T  INCRLA  S£,  E  TC. 

And  let  us  "  bear  a  song  away  " 
As  we  remember  Thee. 


"HE   MUST   INCREASE,  BUT  I   MUST 
DECREASE." 

A  free  translation  from  Lavater. 

Oh  Jesus  Christ,  dwell  Thou  in  me, 

And  bid  all  else  to  vanish ; 
Bring  my  heart  daily  nearer  Thee, 

Its  sinfulness  to  banish. 

Hover  each  day,  in  grace  and  might, 

Above  my  weak  presuming, 
Thy  radiance  swallowing  up  my  night, 

Thy  life  my  death  consuming. 

Let  Thy  pure  sun-light  on  me  shine, 

My  soul  from  error  freeing ; 
Thine  all,  O  Christ,  and  nothing  mine 

My  soul  Thee  only  seeing. 

Draw  near,  I  cast  myself  away, 
Weeping,  on  Thee  I'm  waiting, 

Oh,  let  Thy  holy  will  have  sway, 
Thy  will  in  mine  creating. 
i^3 


HE  MUST  INCREASE,  ETC. 


Look  gloriously  forth  from  me, 
In  wisdom,  grace  and  gladness ; 

Let  me  Thy  living  image  be, 
In  happiness  and  sadness. 

Make  all  within  me  new,  that  so 

No  human  weakness  knowing, 
Thine  own  devoted,  loving  glow 

May  in  my  heart  be  glowing. 

Let  pride  retreat,  and  weakness  flee, 

And  folly  find  an  ending, 
When  towards  Thy  kingdom  and  towards  Thee 

My  earnest  soul  is  tending. 

And  may  this  vain  and  empty  I 

Be  every  day  decreasing  ; 
And  every  day  that  passes  by 

Behold  my  faith  increasing. 

Empty  self  out  of  me  each  day ; 

Fill  with  Thy  presence  dearer, 
O  Thou  who  over  prayer  hast  sway, 

Be  of  my  prayer  the  Hearer  ! 
124 


NEARER    TO  CHRIST. 


May  faith  in  Thee  my  impulse  prove, 

My  inmost  soul  inspire  ; 
Be  Thou,  O  Christ,  my  joy,  my  love, 

My  passionate  desire ! 


NEARER  TO   CHRIST. 

I  never  pressed  so  close  to  Thee,  my  Saviour, 
But  inward  voices  cried,  Draw  nearer  still ! 

Is  my  heart  then  so  large,  and  cannot  Jesus 
With  His  own   fulness  its  deep  ocean  fill ! 

What  means  this  aching  void  ?     Is  there  no  limit 
To  the  deep  longing  of  the  human  soul  ? 

Shall  it  know  hunger  and  know  thirst  forever — 
Grasp  but  in  fragments,  never  seize  the  whole ! 

Ah,  childish  questions  !     Listen  to  the  answer ; 

Great  is  thy  heart,  thy  soul  insatiate  ; 
Vet  has  not  room  for  Him  who  rules  all  nations, 

The  coming  of  whose  Kingdom  worlds  await. 

Ask  for  a  larger  heart,  for  longings  deeper  ; 
For  richer  faith  with  which  to  meet  this  Guest, 
125 


WALKIXG   WITH  GOD. 


Who,  wheresoever  He  finds  room,  will  enter, 
And  satisfy  the  restless  with  His  rest. 


WALKING  WITH   GOD. 

I. 

He  walks  with  God!     Enough  for  me 
That  this  I  in  my  brother  see ; 
I  ask  not  what  his  rank,  or  name, 
Whether  obscure,  or  rich  in  fame, 
Who  fall  before  him,  or  who  rise ; 
If  he  be  ignorant  or  wise. 

ii. 
He  walks  with  God  !     To  Him  allied, 
He  presses  closely  to  His  side ; 
No  more  of  him  I  ask  to  know, 
But  gladly  I  with  him  will  go ; 
My  brother  he,  my  dearest  friend ; 
With  him  I  would  a  life-time  spend. 

in. 
He  walks  with  God  !     Oh,  kinship  sweet, 
For  saints  and  angels  only,  meet, 

126 


A  CUP  OF  WATER. 


How  steadfast  and  how  true  the  heart 
That  from  its  Master  will  not  part ! 
Though  never  warm  or  true  to  me, 
I  love  it,  Lord,  for  loving  Thee  ! 

IV. 

He  walks  with  God  !     Nor  ever  heeds 
Over  what  heights  his  pathway  leads. 
Or  where  to  valley  dips  the  road ; 
Enough  for  him  to  be  with  God ; 
Enough  that  earthly  joy  or  pain 
Tempting,  can  only  tempt  in  vain. 

v. 
He  walks  with  God  !     I  lift  mine  eye 
And  see  what  fields  before  him  lie ; 
The  river  clear,  the  pasture  green ; 
What  matters  what  may  intervene  ? 
Lord,  when  he  is  at  home,  with  Thee 
O  let  his  mantle  fall  on  me  I 


A   CUP   OF  WATER. 
Dear  Jesus,  where  wert  Thou  when  I  refused 
To  give  a  cup  of  water  for  Thy  sake  ? 
127 


ANGELS'  FOOD. 


Where  did  I  part  with  Thee,  how  did  I  dare 
A  single  step  in  my  own  strength  to  take  ? 

This  shows  me  what  I  am  ;  it  shows  that  deep 
In  my  heart's  core  the  love  of  self  still  lies  ; 

I  have  no  goodness,  in  my  own  conceit 
Oh  let  me  never,  never  more  be  wise  ! 

And  wilt  Thou  condescend  the  cup  to  fill 
My  sinful  hands  put  by,  and  may  the  lip 

I  would  not  moisten,  taste  Thy  living  draught, 
And  evermore  its  strength  and  sweetness  sip ! 


ANGELS'  FOOD. 

Thou  canst  eat  angels'  food,  my  soul,  turn  from 

earth's  husks  away, 
They  are  not  fitted  for  thy  wants,  thy  hunger  can 

not  stay ; 
The  servants  in  thy  Father's  house  have  better 

bread  than  thine 
Who  art  His  own  adopted  one,  why  then  mid 

plenty  pine? 

128 


AXGELS'  FOOD. 


Thou  canst  of  living  waters  drink,  why  turn  to 

earthly  springs 
That  at  the  fountain-head  are   dry,  amid  inferior 

things  ; 
Come  to  the  crystal  rivers  pure  that  flow  through 

pastures  green, 
That    make    their   gladsome   sparkling  way,   the 

smitten  rocks  between. 


Thou  canst  inhale,  thou  pilgrim  soul,  the  atmos- 
phere of  heaven, 

By  Him  who  deals  in  bounteous  gifts  its  fulness 
shall  be  given, 

Then  wilt  thou  in  the  mortal  strife,  in  human  weak- 
ness, dare 

To  breathe  amid  the  vapors  foul  of  earth's  sin- 
tainted  air  ? 


Ah  foolish  soul !  ah  childish  soul !    Ah  soul  on 

ruin  bent, 
This  world  is  not  thy  home,  thy  lest,  thou  art  in 

banishment ; 

9  I29 


ANGELS'  FOOD. 


Build  not  with  too  much  care  thy  nest ;  thou  shalt 
be  stripped  and  peeled, 

Made  hungry,  thirsty,  sick  and  faint,  ere  thy  dis- 
ease is  healed. 


Yet  fear  thou  not  and  falter  not,  despise  not  thou 
the  way  ; 

The  long,  dark  night  shall  usher  in  joy's  own  res- 
plendent day ; 

Soon  safe  within  thy  Father's  house  by  Him  thou 
shalt  be  fed, 

Shalt  drink  His  wine,  sit  at  His  feast,  and  taste 
the  living  bread. 


What  matters  then  the  rage  of  thirst,  the  gnaw  of 
hunger's  pang, 

The  cry  for  air  that  from  thy  heart  in  stifling  ter- 
ror rang? 

What  matter  that  thou  hast  not  where  on  earth  to 
build  a  nest  ? 

The  day  is  brighter  after  night,  toil  only  swei  ens 
rest. 

130 


TEST1M0XY. 


TESTIMONY. 

How  gladly  would  Thy  children,  Lord, 

In  goodly  company, 
Unite  to  sound  Thy  praises  out, 

And  testify  of  Thee. 

If  we  oft  tim^s  in  silence  sit, 
Thou  who  our  hearts  dost  know, 

Seest  a  love  that  finds  no  words 
And  tears  that  do  not  flow. 

There  rests  upon  our  mortal  tongues, 

Sometimes  a  secret  spell, 
It  is  not  coldness  that  is  mute, 

But  love  that  loves  too  well. 

We  thank,  we  bless  Thee,  that  to  Thee 

This  is  no  sinful  mood, 
That  by  the  depths  that  dwell  in  Thine 

Our  hearts  are  understood. 

Search  us  and  try  us,  not  alone 
Our  sinfulness  to  see, 
131 


AT  EVENING  TIME,  ETC. 


But  to  detect  the  love  that  longs 
To  testify  of  Thee. 


"AT  EVENING  TIME  THERE  SHALL  BE 
LIGHT. " 

At  evening  time  there  shall  be  light ! 

Yes,  when  the  night  draws  nigh, 
When  shadows  lengthen,  and  the  sun 

Is  parting  from  the  sky ; 
When  the  warm  air  grows  chill,  and  earth 

Lies  in  obscurity ; 

There  shall  be  light !    A  light  unseen 

Amid  the  glare  of  day, 
It  shall  illume  the  lonely  path 

Through  which  thy  footsteps  stray, 
To  guide  thee,  lure  thee,  cheer  thee  on 

Amid  the  darkest  way. 

There  shall  be  light !     As  tender  hands 
Light  children  to  their  bed, 
132 


A   COLD  HEART. 


So  shalt  thou  just  as  lovingly, 

As  tenderly  be  led, 
And  shown  upon  what  pillow,  thou 

Mayst  lay  thy  weary  head. 

There  shall  be  light !  Yet  faith's  bright  eye 

Alone  that  light  can  see  ; 
Can  take  from  death  its  chill,  its  gloom, 

And  lend  it  ecstacy  ; 
Look  up  !  And  see  the  risen  Christ 

Shine,  like  the  sun,  for  Thee ! 


A  COLD  HEART. 

I  know  that  I  love  Thee  my  Saviour, 
Yet  my  heart  lies  as  cold  as  a  stone, 
I  have  not  the  strength  to  grow  warmer, 
Nor  life  enough  for  Thee  to  groan. 

I  know  that  I  love  Thee,  my  Saviour, 
Yet  veiled  and  unsought  is  Thy  face, 
I  see  not,  I  hear  not,  I  feel  not 
Of  what  I  once  knew  of  Thy  grace. 
133 


SA  T1SFIED. 


I  know  that  I  love  Thee,  my  Saviour, 
Though  withered  and  stupid  and  dead, 
Though  the  shower  of  blessing  is  failing, 
And  all  that  has  cheered  me  has  fled. 

I  know  that  I  love  Thee,  my  Saviour ! 
Away  then  with  fear  and  with  doubt, 
Let  me  rest  in  this  sorrowful  prison, 
Till  Thou  Thyself  callest  me  out. 


SATISFIED. 

M I  shall  be  satisfied  when  I  awake  with  Thy  likeness." 

What  shall  I  find  in  heaven  ?     The  faces  dear 
Upon  whose  love  and  smiles  I  feasted  here  ? 
Shall  I  rejoice  that  naught  can  there  divide 
United  hearts,  and  so  be  satisfied? 

What  shall  I  do  in  heaven  ?     Shall  I  be  blest 
With  a  long  luxury  and  endless  rest  ? 
Conflict  and  labor  over,  shall  I  ride 
Through  seas  untroubled,  and  be  satisfied  ? 
134 


MY  GOLDEN  HOURS. 


What  shall  I  be  in  heaven  ?     A  messenger 
Passing  from  sainted  ones  to  those  who  err 
And  suffer  still  on  earth  ?     Mid  fields  so  wide, 
Shall  I,  who  love  to  work,  be  satisfied  ? 

I  know  not,  care  not ;  when  life's  fetters  break, 
When  from  death's  blessed  restful  sleep  I  wake, 
Whate'er  Thy  love  withhold,  or  may  provide, 
Being  like  Thee,  I  shall  be  satisfied  ! 


"MY  GOLDEN   HOURS." 

My  golden  hours !     My  golden  hours ! 

O  what  and  whence,  are  they  ? 
Have  they  sprung  up  mid  life's  fair  flowers, 

Fruits  of  a  sun-lit  day  ? 

Have  I  sailed  forth  on  prosperous  seas, 

Bound  for  the  blessed  land 
Where  I  could  take  them  at  my  ease, 

From  off  a  sparkling  strand  ? 

Not  so  !     They  grew  mid  brambles  rude, 
Sprang  up  mid  briar  and  thorn, 
i35 


MY  GOLDEN  HOURS. 


Mid  darkest  nights,  in  solitude, 
My  golden  hours  were  born. 

On  stormy  seas  the  bark  was  lost 
That  sought  these  treasures  rare ; 

I  found  them  on  a  rock-bound  coast ; 
I  plucked  them  from  despair. 

Now  God  be  praised,  who  briar  and  thorn 

Strewed  thickly  on  my  way  ; 
My  pierced  soul,  all  rent  and  torn, 

Shall  anthems  sing  for  aye. 

And  blessed  be  His  name,  who  walked 

Upon  life's  troubled  sea  ; 
Whispered  of  His  own  peace,  and  talked 

As  a  dear  Friend  to  me. 

For  in  my  griefs  and  pains  and  sighs, 
Mid  chilling  frosts  and  showers, 

I  won  from  my  dear  Lord  the  prize ; 
His  golden,  golden  hours  ! 


136 


THE  GIFT. 


THE    GIFT. 

I. 

I  asked  of  Thee  a  gift,  Jesus,  my  Lord, 

And  my  expectant  eyes  looked  up,  to  see 
That  blessing  speedily  from  Thy  dear  Hand 
Come  down  to  me. 

ii. 

I  waited,  but  it  came  not ;  asked  again, 

And  thought  to  see  it  come  in  angel-guise, 
And  when  it  lingered,  found  no  words  to  tell 
My  sad  surprise. 

in. 
Dear  Saviour,  have  I  asked  amiss,  I  cried, 

What  was  there  lacking  in  my  earnest  prayer 
Did  it  seek  heaven  upon  too  weak  a  faith 
To  enter  there  ? 

IV. 

Full  long  I  pondered,  hoping  that  the  gift 
For  which  I  earnestly  my  Lord  besought, 
'37 


THE  GIFT. 


Would,  if  attained,  fill  my  whole  soul  with  love, 
And  holy  thought. 

v. 
But  as  He  still  denied  it,  did  not  choose 

To  give  it  me,  I  cast  and  threw  my  will 
Down  at  His  feet,  and  bid  it  there  to  lie, 
Patient  and  still. 

VI. 

Should  not  the  Hand  so  bountiful  to  me, 

Reserve  the  right  to  choose  for  me  my  good, 
Should  I  not  glory  in  His  ways,  if  they 
Were  understood  ? 

VII. 

Thus  musing,  to  my  closet  yet  once  more 

I  stole,  if  only  lovingly  to  say, 
Do  what  Thou  wilt,  dear  Lord,  for  Thy  "  sweet 
will," 

Is  mine,  alway. 

VIII. 

When  lo,  within  that  closet,  waiting  me, 

I  found  the  risen  Christ,  and  oh  what  grace, 
i33 


THE  GIFT. 


\Vhat  love,  what  beauty  and  what  tenderness, 
Shone  in  His  face  ! 

IX. 

And  thus  He  spake,  "  That  was  but  seeming  good, 

Thy  childish  ignorance  so  boldly  craved, 
Withholding  it  My  love  protected  thee, 
From  danger  saved. 

x. 

"  But  I  have  come  instead  ;  yes,  here  am  I, 

Thy  longed-for  Saviour;  lean  upon  my  breast, 
Thy  disappointment  shall  give  place  to  joy, 
To  peace  and  rest !" 

XI. 

Ah  Lord  !  too  sacred  was  that  wondrous  hour ! 

The  veil  that  hides  it  let  no  mortal  lift ; 
Great  was  the  grace  I  sought,  but  oh  how  small 
Beside  Thy  gift ! 


*39 


JOINT  HEIR   WITH  CHRIST. 


JOINT   HEIR   WITH   CHRIST. 

4  It  is  enough  for  the  disciple  that  he  be  as  his  Lord." 
I. 

What  aileth  thee,  my  heart  ?     Thy  lamentations 
Fill  all  the  air,  yet  Jesus  draweth  nigh ; 

This  is  His  gift,  the  sorrow  thou  deplorest ; 
He  chose  this  anguish,  counted  out  each  sigh ; 
The  Son  of  David  would  not  pass  thee  by. 

ii. 
Wounded,  imprisoned  heart,  He  comes  for  healing 

From  thy  captivity  to  set  thee  free, 
Thy  blinded  eyes  He  comes  Himself  to  open, 

The  sore,  sad  weight  to  render  sweet  to  thee ; 

He  passes  by,  and  thou  His  face  canst  see. 

in. 

Thou  falterest,  my  heart  ?     Then  lay  thy  burden 
At  His  dear  feet,  who  came  the  cross  to  bear , 

Give  Him  this  grief;  upon  the  Man  of  sorrows 
Lay  thou  thy  sorrows,  lay  thine  every  care, 
And  overwhelm  Him  with  thy  deep  despair. 
140 


JOINT  HEIR   WITH  CHRIST. 


IV. 

For  as  his  Lord  shall  not  be  the  disciple ; 

Christ  may  endure  the  cross  and  bear  the  shame; 

He  may  walk  homeless,  sleep  without  a  pillow, 
And  He  who  for  our  sakes  a  Man  became, 
Have  scorn  and  ange*  heaped  upon  His  name. 


v. 
But  thou,  self-lover,  choosest  ease  and  leisure, 

Thou  with  this  Man  of  sorrows  hast  no  part ; 
Thou  must  have  home  and  friends  and  reputa- 
tion, 
A  life  of  peace,  an  unencumbered  heart, 
Pleasure's  bright  sparkle,  not  affliction's  smart ! 


VI. 

For  shame  !    For  shame !    Arise  in  strength  coura- 
geous, 
Bear  thine  own  burden  though  it  be  with  tears ; 
Follow  the  Master,  imitate  His  patience, 
If  need  be,  follow  three  and  thirty  years 
Mid  poverty,  mid  loneliness  and  fears. 
141 


cons  WAY. 


VII. 

It  is  enough  that  of  His  grief  partaker, 

Thou  shalt  with  Him  in  all  His  glory  share ; 

Shalt  own  the  love  that  meted  out  thy  sorrows, 
Proclaim  His  praise,  His  faithfulness  declare, 
And  with  Him  enter  heaven  His  joint  heir ! 


GOD'S    WAY. 

Dear  Lord,  I  often  tell  Thee  that  I  fain 
Would  give  some  great  and  costly  gift  to  Thee ; 

Yea,  I  have  almost  courted  loss  and  pain, 
If  I  thereby  might  proved  and  humbled  be. 

And  now  the  Hand  that  I  have  asked  to  take 
From  out  my  store  some  dear,  some  precious 
thing, 

Does  not  disdain  this  bruised  heart  to  break, 
To  get  possession  of  its  offering. 

Yes,  blood-drops  ooze  from  many  a  rent  that  Thou 
Thyself  hast  torn,  and  I  am  faint  and  sore ; 

I  feel  a  death-like  moisture  on  my  brow 
And  on  my  dizzy  brain  wild  voices  roar. 
142 


PRA  YER. 


But  oh  I  waver  not !     Thou  knowest  well 

I  meant  that  Thou  shouldst  take  me  at  my  wTord, 

The  bitter  waves  of  anguish  rise  and  swell, 
But  heed  them  not,  my  Master  and  my  Lord. 

Keep  what  Thou  hast  in  wise  and  tender  grace, 
Snatched  from  my  deepest  depths,  nor  left  to  me 

Option  or  choice ;  love  shines  upon  Thy  face, 
Thou  knowest  best  what  I  can  spare  for  Thee. 

But  oh,  by  all  this  pain,  this  bleeding  heart, 
Subdue,  control,  beat  down  and  lay  me  low ; 

New  knowledge  of  Thyself  to  me  impart, 
Jesus,  my  Saviour,  let  me  learn  to  know. 

I  smart,  I  writhe,  I  bleed — and  still  I  cry — 
Lo  that  Thou  hast  is  Thine,  is  mine  no  more ; 

Thou  Master  of  my  treasures  art,  and  I 
In  this  new  poverty  Thy  name  adore ! 


PRAYER. 

Mv  soul  is  weak,  its  purposes  are  poor, 
Of  nothing  in  itself  it  can  be  sure, 
M3 


PR  A  YER. 


Nor  knows  that  to  the  end  it  can  endure ; 
And  so  I  love  to  pray. 

My  heart  is  cold,  it  does  not  always  beat 
With  glowing  love  to  Jesus,  as  is  meet, 
Nor  always  run  His  blessed  form  to  greet ; 
And  so  I  love  to  pray. 

My  mind  is  ignorant  and  dark  ;  I  know 
So  little  of  the  way  in  which  to  go, 
My  progress  is  so  tedious  and  so  slow, 
And  so  I  love  to  pray. 

For  praying,  I  can  feel  that  God  is  strong, 
That  in  my  weakness  I  to  Him  belong, 
That  He  can  nothing  do  or  false  or  wrong- 
Dearly  I  love  to  pray  ! 

And  my  cold  heart  grows  warmer  as  it  tells 
Its  story  pitiful,  with  love  it  swells 
To  Him  who  unseen  ever  near  it  dwells, 
And  so  I  love  to  pray. 
144 


WHERE  IS  HE. 


And  in  communing  with  the  great  All-Wise, 
What  scales  drop  off  from  my  poor,  blinded  eyes ! 
What  gracious  lessons  He  to  me  supplies  ! 
Ah  Lord  !  I  love  to  pray  ! 


WHERE   IS   HE? 

Oh  where  is  He  for  whom  my  soul  is  pining, 
For  whom  I  yearn,  and  thirst,  and  pant,  and 
pray  ? 

Around  His  empty  cross  my  arms  I'm  twinirg. 
What  daring  hand  has  borne  His  form  away • 

He  is  my  soul's  beloved,  my  heart's  trea? <»re — 
With  Him  this  weary  world  could  restful  be ; 

Without  Him  language  is  too  poor  to  Pleasure, 
How  desolate,  how  homeless  it  wou?d  be. 

Say  you  the  Lord  has  left  His  cross  behind  Him 

For  you  to  hang  on,  and  from  hence  is  gone  ? 
Gone  ?     Whither  ?     But  my  heart  shall  go  and 
find  Him, 
Nor  linger  here,  defrauded  and  forlorn. 
10  145 


WHERE  IS  HE . 


Tell  me,  how  went  He  ?     Point  in  the  direction 
And  I  will  follow  wheresoe'er  He  leads ; 

All  paths  are  one  to  passionate  affection — 
That  neither  time,  nor  pain,  nor  peril  heeds. 

What  say  you  ?     He  has  homeward  gone,  and  left 
me 

To  follow  thither  ?     Gladly,  Lord,  I  come  ! 
I  knew  Thou  hadst  not  of  Thyself  bereft  me — 

One  moment  more  and  I  too  am  at  home  ! 

What  hands  invisible  are  these  that  hold  me, 
And  beat  me  back,  and  will  not  let  me  go  ? 

Cease  to  oppose,  presume  not  to  enfold  me — 
I  fly  to  Him  I  love,  to  Him  I  know. 

I  may  not,  say  ye  ?     May  not  hope  to  clasp  Him 
Save  in  the  ministry  of  pain  and  loss, 

My  loving  arms  may  never  reach  to  grasp  Him 
Save  through  His  martyrdom  and  on  His  cross ! 

Quick  with  the  nails  then  !     Spare  not  for  my  crying 
Where  my  Beloved  hung  let  me  too  hang — 

In  this  sweet  agony  death  is  not  dying — 
The  pang  that  bears  to  Him,  it  is  no  pang ! 
146 


THE  MOTHER. 


THE   MOTHER. 
I. 
As  I  have  seen  a  mother  bend 
With  aching,  bleeding  heart, 
O'er  lifeless  limbs  and  lifeless  face — 
So  have  I  had  to  part 

II. 

With  the  sweet  prattler  at  my  knee, 

The  baby  from  my  breast, 
And  on  the  lips  so  cold  in  death, 

Such  farewell  kisses  prest. 

in. 

If  I  should  live  a  thousand  years 

Time's  hand  cannot  efface, 
The  features  painted  on  my  heart 

Of  each  beloved  face. 

IV. 

If  I  should  bathe  in  endless  seas 

They  could  not  wash  away 
The  memory  of  these  children's  forms  ;- 

How  fresh  it  is  to-day. 
M7 


THE  MOTHER. 


V. 
Ah,  how  my  grief  has  taught  ray  heart 

To  feel  another's  woe  ! 
With  what  a  sympathetic  pang 

I  watch  the  tear-drops  flow  ! 

VI. 

Dear  Jesus  !  must  Thou  take  our  lambs, 

Our  cherished  lambs  away  ? 
Thou  hast  so  many,  we  so  few — 

Canst  Thou  not  let  them  stay  ? 


VII. 

Must  the  round  limbs  we  love  so  well, 
Grow  stiff  and  cold  in  death  ? 

Must  all  our  loveliest  flowerets  fall 
Before  his  icy  breath  ? 

VIII. 

Nay  Lord,  but  it  is  hard,  is  hard — 

Oh  give  us  faith  to  see, 
That  grief,  not  joy,  is  best  for  us 

Since  it  is  sent  by  Thee. 
148 


THE  MOTHER. 


IX. 
And  oh,  by  all  our  mortal  pangs 

Hear  Thou  the  mother's  plea— 
Be  gracious  to  the  darling  ones 

We've  given  back  to  Thee. 

x. 

Let  them  not  miss  the  mother's  love, 
The  mother's  fond  caress  ; 

Gather  them  to  Thy  gentle  breast 
In  faithful  tenderness. 


XI. 

Oh  lead  them  into  pastures  green, 

And  unto  living  springs  ; 
Gather  them  in  Thine  arms,  and  shield 

Beneath  Thy  blessed  wings. 

XII. 

Ah,  little  reck  we  that  we  weep, 
And  wring  our  empty  hands; — 

Blessed,  thrice  blessed  are  infant  feet, 
That  walk  Immanuel's  lands  ! 
M9 


OH  COME  THOU  DOWN   TO  ME,  ETC. 

XIII. 

Blessed  the  souls  that  ne'er  shall  know 

Of  sin  the  mortal  taint, 
The  hearts  that  ne'er  shall  swell  with  grief 

Or  utter  a  complaint ! 

XIV. 

Brief  pangs  for  us,  long  joy  for  them  ! 

Thy  holy  Name  we  bless, 
We  could  not  give  them  up  to  Thee, 

Lord,  if  we  loved  them  less  ! 


"OH  COME  THOU  DOWN  TO  ME,  OR  TAKE 
ME  UP  TO  THEE  !  " 

I  would  be  with  Thee,  dearest  Lord,  I  long  Thy 

face  to  see, 
I  long  that  each  succeeding  day  should  bring  me 

nearer  Thee; 
Wilt  Thou  come  down  to  dwell   with   me,   wilt 

Thou  with  me  abide ; 
Wilt  Thou  go  with  me  where  I  go,  be  ever  at  my 

side  ? 

»5° 


OH  COME  THOU  DOWN  TO  ME,  ETC. 

Thy  home  is  with  the  humble,  Lord;  that  bles- 
sed truth  I  know  ; 

^ut  cannot  change  my  heart  myself,  do  Thou,  then, 
make  it  so  ; 

Oh  come,  my  Saviour,  come  to  me,  it  is  not  life  to 
live, 

Unless  thy  presence  fills  my  soul,  except  Thy- 
self Thou  give. 

Or,  if  Thou  canst  not  come  to  me,  a  weak,  a  sin- 
ful child, 

If  Thou,  alas,  dost  find  in  me  no  temple  undefiled, 

Oh  then  my  gracious  Lord,  send  down  a  messen- 
ger for  me, 

And  strip  my  sinfulness  away  and  take  me  up  to 
Thee. 

I  care  not  where  I  find  Thee,  Lord,  whether  or 
here  or  there, 

I  only  know  I  want  to  find  and  love  Thee,  every- 
where ; 

This  world  with  all  its  tears  and  groans,  would  be 
my  chosen  place, 

If  Thou  shouldst  plan  it  for  the  scene  in  which  to 
show  Thy  face. 

151 


DYING,    YET  BEHOLD   WE  LIVE. 

And  heaven  with  all  its  peace  and  rest,  would  be 

no  heaven  to  me, 
If  I  might  dwell  forever  there,  without  a  glimpse 

of  Thee ; 
It  is  not  life,  or  life's  best  joys,  it  is  not  heaven  I 

want, 
But  oh,  Thou  risen  Christ,   for  Thee,  for  Thee 

alone,  I  pant ! 


"DYING,  YET  BEHOLD  WE  LIVE." 

A  ship,  full  laden  left  her  native  port, 
To  plough  the  waves,  and  seek  another  clime; 

Her  sails  were  set,  and  gallant  ranks  of  men, 
If  the  wind  failed,  would  with  their  oars  keep 
time. 

Her  port  she  lett,  but  on  a  troubled  main, 
Her  every  sinew,  every  nerve,  she  strained ; 

Yet  wooed  the  breezes,  spread  her  sails  in  vain — 

She  sped  not  on  her  way,  nor  land  she  gained. 

152 


D  YnVG,    YE  T  BEHOLD   WE  LIVE. 

Then  rose  the  pilot,  "  Heed  my  words,"  he  cried  t 
"  Too  many  a  weighty  gift  this  ship  ye  gave ; 

Cast  this  and  that  away,  and  she  shall  ride 
Lightly,  and  unencumbered,  o'er  the  wave." 

With  niggard  hand,  reluctantly  they  drew 
Some  trifles  from  her  breast,  and  in  the  sea 

They  one  by  one  these  secret  treasures  threw, 
And  saw  them  sink  in  its  immensity. 

Yet  still,  as  if  held  back  by  leaden  hands, 

The  ship  no  progress  made,  and  so  once  more, 

The  pilot,  working  her  from  off  the  sands, 

Made  the  same  plaint  his  voice  had  made  before 

Then  one  by  one  her  treasures  left  her  deck, 
To  be  by  yawning,  briny  jaws  consumed, 

And  mid  fierce  winds  and  storms,  an  empty  wreck, 
Went    staggering   into    port,   condemned    and 
doomed. 

And  yet  the  pilot  from  the  master  won 

Plaudits  and  welcomes  that  his  zeal  repaid, 

For  on  his  ear  there  fell  the  glad  well  done, 
Who,  faithful  to  his  trust,  no  trust  betrayed. 
i53 


O.VLY  JESUS. 


Thus,  O  my  soul,  thy  Pilot  made  thy  way 
Straight  to  the  haven  where  thou  fain  wouldst  be; 

Nor  feared  to  rob  thee,  cut  thy  spars  away, 
Knowing  the  Master  only  cared  for  thee. 

For  thee,  dismantled,  empty,  good  for  naught, 
For  thee,  who  unto  him  no  treasure  bore ; 

Then  ride  at  anchor,  tempest-tossed,  distraught, 
For  thou  hast  touched  at  an  eternal  shore ! 


ONLY  JESUS. 

From  the  German. 

Jesus,  Jesus,  only  Jesus, 

Shall  become  my  wish  and  aim ; 
Now  I  make  a  sacred  promise 

That  our  wills  shall  be  the  same ; 
For  my  heart  in  sweet  accord, 
Cries,  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  dear  Lord 

There  is  One  whom  I  am  loving, 

Loving  early,  loving  late ; 
He  to  me  my  all  has  given, 

All  to  Hun  I  consecrate, 
354 


YOUR  DARLING  SLEEPS. 


Thou  Thy  blood  on  me  hast  poured, 
Let  Thy  will  be  done,  dear  Lord  ! 

If  what  seems  to  be  a  blessing 
Is  not  chosen,  planned  by  Thee, 

Oh  deprive  me  of  it,  rather 
Give  me  what  is  good  for  me ; 

Still  Thy  name  shall  be  adored, 

Where  Thy  will  despoils  me,  Lord ! 

Let  Thy  will  be  done  within  me, 
Through  me,  by  me,  ever  done, 

Done  in  life,  in  joy,  in  sorrow, 
Till  the  victory  is  won. 

Dying,  be  in  me  restored, 

When,  how,  where  Thou  wilt,  dear  Lord ! 


"YOUR    DARLING    SLEEPS. 

A  very  free  translation  from  the  German. 
I. 

Your  darling  sleeps  ;  bid  not  his  slumbers  cease, 

Permit  this  sweet  repose ; 
Lying  among  the  flowers,  and  full  of  peace, 

He  says,  to  soothe  your  woes — 
i55 


YOUR  DARLING  SLEEPS. 


I  lie  enfolded  in  delightful  rest, 
The  lines  have  fall'n  to  me  among  the  blest — 
Your  darling  sleeps. 

ii. 
Your  darling  sleeps ;  all  wearied  out  with  play 

And  satisfied  with  joy ; 
Forgotten  now  is  what  beguiled  the  day, 
Forgotten  festival,  and  book,  and  toy, 
The  treasures  that  he  loved  can  charm  no  more, 
For  his  young  feet  have  climbed  to  Eden's  door— 
Your  darling  sleeps. 

in. 
Your  darling  sleeps ;  his  day  of  life  was  gay 

And  rich  in  joyous  hours  ; 
A  sparkling  brook  that  made  its  gladsome  way 

Through  fields  of  blooming  flowers  ; 
Sonow  nor  knew  him  or  his  presence  sought, 
With  him  not  death  itself  in  conflict  wrought — 
Your  darling  sleeps. 

IV. 

Your  darling  sleeps  ;  how  blessed  and  how  sure, 
On  the  good  Shepherd's  arm  ! 
156 


YOUR  DARLING  SLEEPS. 


His  childish  heart  from  sinful  stain  made  pure, 

Death  could  not  do  him  harm  ; 
Compassed  with  holy  nurture,  holy  care, 
His  dying  pillow  was  parental  prayer — 
Your  darling  sleeps. 

v. 
Your  darling  sleeps ;  and  so  he  sleeps  away 

Life's  bitter,  threatening  hours  ; 
Know'st  thou,  oh  mother,  what  concealed  lay, 

Amid  its  adverse  powers  ? 
Now  wintry  storms  for  him  may  vainly  beat, 
Vainly  may  summer  scorch  with  fervid  heat, 
Your  darling  sleeps. 

VI. 

Your  darling  sleeps ;  but  for  a  single  night, 

Whose  gloomy  shades  must  flee  ; 
And  when  the  day  dawns  forth  with  rosy  light. 

That  will  a  morning  be  ! 
The  Man  of  sorrows,  pitying  your  grief, 
Will  come,  as  once  of  old,  to  your  relief — 
Your  darling  sleeps. 
i57 


NEARER. 


VII. 
Your  darling  sleeps ;  and  now  the  parting  kiss 

Upon  his  white  lips  press ; 
O  mother-heart,  through  such  an  hour  as  this 

Christ  pity  your  distress  ! 
He  walks  upon  life's  billows,  and  He  will 
Allay  the  storm  and  all  its  moanings  still — 
Your  darling  sleeps. 

VIII. 

Your  darling  sleeps  ;  close  to  Thy  tender  breast, 

Good  Shepherd,  clasp  our  trust ! 
Ye  stars,  look  kindly  on  his  place  of  rest, 

And  guard  his  precious  dust ! 
Ye  winds  float  round  him  on  a  gentle  wing, 
Ye  flowers,  a  lavish  fragrance  o'er  him  fling  I 
Our  darling  sleeps. 


NEARER. 

Oh  Jesus,  draw  nearer, 
And  make  Thyself  dearer, 

i53 


SORRO  W. 


I  yearn,  I  am  yearning  for  Thee ; 

Come  take  for  Thy  dwelling, 

The  heart  that  is  swelling 
With  longings  Thy  beauty  to  see ! 

How  languid  and  weary, 

How  lonely  and  dreary, 
The  days  when  Thou  hidest  Thy  face ; 

How  sorrow  and  sadness 

Are  turned  into  gladness, 
By  a  glimpse  of  its  love  and  its  grace. 

Come  nearer,  come  nearer, 

And  make  Thyself  dearer, 
Thou  joy,  Thou  delight  of  my  heart . 

Close,  close  to  Thee  pressing 

I  long  for  Thy  blessing, 
I  cannot  without  it  depart. 


SORROW. 
I. 
[  have  known  Sorrow ;  I  have  been  acquainted 
With  her  pale  face ;  her  voice,  her  footstep  known  t 
i59 


SOA'A'O  W. 


Oft  uninvited  she  has  crossed  my  threshold, 
To  speak  with  me  alone. 

ii. 
I  loved  her  not !  I  gave  to  her  no  welcome  ; 

Asked  not  her  errand,  closed  to  her  my  heart ; 
With  chilling  words,  and  with  a  face  averted, 
I  urged  her  to  depart. 

in. 

She  went,  but  came  again  ;  as  a  dove  flutters 
About  some  dear  retreat,  she  oft  returned ; 
I  heard  her  wings  but  offered  her  no  shelter, 
Her  coming  flight  I  spurned. 

iv. 
At  last,  by  my  repelling  frowns  unwearied, 

Again  she  ventured  nigh,  and  thus  she  spake  : 
"  I  come  from  One  thou  lovest!"  showed  her  tokens, 
Grew  welcome,  for  His  sake. 

v. 
Thenceforth  she  sat  my  guest,  revered  and  honored 

And  her  stern  face  unlovely  ceased  to  be. 
When  life  interpreting,  she  sat  beside  me, 
Made  Christ  more  dear  to  me. 
160 


SORRO  W. 


VI. 

And  yet  her  presence  drove  from  out  my  threshold, 

The  treasures  that  His  hand  in  bounty  gave  ; 
Groans  wrung  she  from  me,  as  I  knelt  in  anguish 
At  the  relentless  grave. 

VII. 

Upon  the  rock  of  sore  suspense  she  laid  me, 

Not  once,  but  often,  tore  me  limb  from  limb ; 
And  when  I  shrank,  and  wept,  and  cried  for  mercy, 
She  pointed  but  to  Him. 

VIII. 

And  so  by  turns  sore-smitten,  soothed,  instructed, 

I  sit  at  her  dear  feet,  and  smile  on  her, 
Who  came  on  wings  of  love  to  scouige  and  prove 
me — 

Christ's  precious  messengei  ! 


II  161 


GOD  LOVEi    TO  BE  LONGED  FOR, ETC. 


"GOD  LOVES  TO  BE  LONGED  FOR,  HE 
LOVES  TO  BE  SOUGHT." 

Lord,  is  this  true  ?     Ah,  canst  Thou  really  love 
These  longings  in  the  soul,  that  only  tell 

Of  emptiness,  of  depths  unsatisfied, 

Of  waves  that  on  a  boundless  ocean  swell  ? 

And  dost  Thou  love  me  when  I  only  seek, 
Yet  do  not  find  Thee  ?     When  I  go  astray, 

And  stumble  blindly  onward  in  the  dark, 
And  cannot  see,  but  only  feel,  my  way  ? 

Ah  !  I  am  truly  longing  !     Both  my  arms 

Are  stretched,  with  speechless  yearnings,  aftei 
Thee ; 

Naught  else  have  I  to  give  Thee,  dearest  Lord, 
No  grace,  no  beauty,  canst  Thou  see  in  me. 

And  I  am  trul)  seeking  !     All  day  long, 

In  silent  thought  and  prayer,  to  Thee  I  turn  ; 

At  home,  abroad,  alone,  or  in  the  crowd, 

I  strive  to  find  Thee,  strive  Thy  paths  to  learn 
i6z 


BRCKEX  TO  BE  X'EXDED. 


Longing  and  seeking  !  These  two  words  declare 
All  that  I  am  and  hope  for ;  great  the  thought 

That  Thou  canst  love  this  longing,  love  the  heart 
That,  while  it  seeks  Thee,  in  itself  is  naught. 

fesus,  dear  Master,  give  to  me  the  power 
Thy  name  to  love,  to  honor  and  adore ; 

I  long  for  Thee  !  I  seek  Thee  !     Let  me  long, 
And  let  me  ever  seek  Thee,  more  and  more. 


BROKEN   TO   BE   MENDED. 

Suggested  by  the  remark  of   a  bereaved  friend  :   M  We  cannot   b« 
mended  unless  we  are  broken." 

Jesus,  our  tears  with  blessed  smiles  are  blending, 
For  Thou  who  knowest  how  our  hearts  to  break, 

Knowest  the  happy  secret  of  their  mending, 
And  we  rejoice  in  sorrow  for  Thy  sake. 

Yes,  break  us  all  to  pieces,  at  Thy  pleasure, 

For  the  poor  fragments  can  be  joined  by  Thee ; 

Snatch  from  us,  if  Thou  wilt,  our  every  treasure  ! 
Possessing  Thee  we  never  poor  can  be. 
163 


THA  T  I  MA  Y  WIN  CHRIST. 


There  is  a  sweetness  in  a  spirit  broken, 
That  lofty  souls  attain  not — cannot  know ; 

To  such  a  heart  Thy  promises  are  spoken,  * 
Thou  hast  a  solace  for  its  silent  woe. 

And  when  our  weary  days  on  earth  are  ended, 
And  from  its  agitations  we  are  free, 

We  shall  rejoice  that  we  were  broken,  mended, 
By  Thine  own  skillful  hand,  dear  Lord,  by  Thee 


"THAT   I   MAY  WIN   CHRIST." 

Dear  Jesus,  every  morning's  light 
Brings  a  new  love  to  Thee ; 

Each  makes  of  Thee  a  new  delight, 
New  strength,  new  joy  to  me. 

I  want  to  give  myself  away 
In  bonds  as  fresh,  as  new ; 

Let  a  new  love  be  born  each  day, 
A  love  more  deep,  more  true. 

*  Psalm  li.  17. 
164 


AN  ANGEL  SMILING. 


I  would  forget,  in  pressing  on, 

All  that  is  left  behind. 
A  changeless  goal  has  not  been  won, 

Not  yet  my  Lord  I  find. 

The  goal  is  changing  !     With  each  morn 

There  springs  a  higher  aim, 
With  each  are  deeper  longings  born, 

Life's  object  not  the  same. 

Thou  dost,  with  Thine  inspiring  grace, 

My  halting  steps  allure  ; 
I  know  that  I  shall  see  Thy  face, 

To  win  Thee  I  am  sure. 

Oh,  who,  such  blessed  race  to  run, 
Would  not  each  morning  rise, 

Knowing  that  God's  eternal  Son 
Shall  be  the  victor's  prize  ? 


AN   ANGEL   SMILING, 

Dear  Lord,  into  my  heart,  already  sore, 
Sharp,  piercing  thorns  are  pressing; 
165 


AN  ANGEL  SMILING. 


I  recognize  the  Hand  that  oft  before, 
Has,  in  such  guise,  sent  blessing. 

I  shrink  not  from  this  pain  ;  my  hands  clasp  Thine 

To  help  it  pierce  the  deeper ; 
I  know  these  wounds  are  precious  and  divine, 

I  am  a  happy  weeper. 

For  oh  !  I  weep  not  that  I  smart  and  bleed, 

But  that  my  patient  willing, 
Falls  in  with  Thy  dear  will  in  thought  and  deed, 

And  every  pain  is  stilling. 

I  weep  because  Thy  will  has  grown  so  sweet, 

That  even  a  thorn  brings  gladness ; 
That  all  which  humbles,  drives  me  to  Thy  feet, 

Is  precious  sadness. 

So  pierce,  so  wound,  my  Master,  for  this  heart 

Against  Thy  thorns  is  pressing, 
Rejoicing  in  their  pain,  and  in  their  smart, 

Thy  tenderness  confessing. 
1 66 


YEARNIXG. 


Oh,  blessed  Will  of  God  !     It  sorrow  daunts 

While  of  its  sting  beguiling  ; 
\nd  where  a  torment  only  stood,  it  plants 

An  angel  smiling. 


YEARNING. 

How  long  it  is  since  I  have  seen  Thy  face, 
And  how  I  yearn  to  see  it !     Dearest  Lord, 

I  dare  not  ask  to  see  it,  though  such  grace 
Transporting  joy  and  gladness  would  afford. 

Let  me  be  patient  in  this  long  delay; 

If  I  have  lost  Thee,  all  the  fault  is  mine — 
Perhaps  when  Thou  wert  near  I  turned  away- 

And  lost  the  light  that  would  upon  me  shine. 

Forgive  the  folly,  and  forgive  the  sin — 

It  was  not  wilful, — how  it  came  and  when  — 

At  what  vile  door  the  Tempter  entered  in, 
I  do  not  know :  oh  turn  him  out  again. 
167 


THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


For  I  am  very  weary,  very  sad — 
Life  is  so  desolate  afar  from  Thee ; 

I  miss  the  joys  sublime  that  once  I  had ; 
I  long,  I  yearn  for  Thy  lost  sympathy. 


THE   CHRISTIAN   LIFE. 

Wouldst  thou  take  the  gauge  of  the  Christian 
life, 

And  measure  it  out  by  rule  ? 
Wouldst  thou  circumscribe  it,  and  plane  it  down, 

And  define  it  in  some  school  ? 

But  there  is  no  plummet  can  reach  its  depths; 

No  foot  that  can  scale  its  heights ; 
No  painter  its  varying  features  paint, 

No  poet  its  pure  delights. 

Its  mystical  grace  is  grace  of  its  own, 
And  springs  from  a  mystic  Fount ; 

Now  in  the  valley  it  makes  its  way, 
And  now  it  ascends  the  mount. 
16S 


HE  IS  JINE. 


Believe  in  it,  trust  it,  with  all  thy  soul, 
And  love  it  with  all  thine  heart ; 

Seek  it  where  others  have  sought  it  out, 
And  learn  what  they  can  impart. 

But  he  who  knows,  and  who  loves  it  best, 

Will  ever  declare  to  thee, 
It  is  all  a  wonder,  a  miracle, 

And  always  a  mystery  ! 


HE  IS  MINE. 

i. 

0  Christ,  J  yearn  for  more  of  Thee; 
Reveal,  reveal  Thyself  to  me, 

And  satisfy  this  heart 
That  would  be  Thine  alone. 

1  want  Thee  wholly,  not  in  part, 

I  want  to  know  that  mine  Thou  art, 

To  know  as  I  am  known ; 
Within  this  breast  Thy  love  has  glowed, 
Oh,  come  and  make  it  Thine  abode. 
169 


HE  IS  MINE. 


II. 
When  I  can  see  Thy  face  divine, 
A  sunbeam  seems  on  me  to  shine ; 
And  if  Thou  turn  away, 

Joy  ceases  to  be  joy. 
Night's  blackest  darkness  stifles  day, 
I  am  of  restless  grief  the  prey, 

Its  idle  sport  and  toy ; 
I  know,  for  I  have  tasted  this —  [bliss. 

Have  missed  Thee,  mourned  Thee,  felt  Thy 

in. 
Oh,  Thou  my  Life,  my  Joy,  my  End, 
Dearer  than  any  earthly  friend, 
How  can  I  speak  Thy  love  ? 

What  say  I  have  not  said  ? 
When  streaming  eyes  have  looked  above, 
These  hands  held  fast  the  heavenly  Dove, 

That  pleaded  in  my  stead : 
Has  not  Thy  penetrating  glance 
Read  that  which  knows  no  utterance  ? 

IV. 

And  yet  I  yearn  to  love  Thee  more, 
With  saintly  rapture  to  adore 
170 


HE  IS  MIXE 


Thy  dear  and  precious  Name, 

That  must  be  dearer  yet ; 
I  come  Thy  promises  to  claim, 
Thy  love  my  boldness  will  not  blame, 

Thy  heart  my  plea  forget ; 
Let  praises  be  my  every  breath, 
My  hourly  life  of  self  the  death. 

v. 

Thou  hast  lit  up  with  ardor  rare 
Some  hidden  souls,  Thy  special  care ; 
Make  me  to  them  akin  ! 

Give  me  what  Thou  to  them  hast  given, 
Their  high  devotion  let  me  win, 
Their  calm  dominion  over  sin, 

Making  of  earth  a  heaven — 
The  wondrous  and  mysterious  grace 
Of  ever  looking  on  Thy  face  ! 

VI. 

They  went  to  meet  Thee  by  a  way 

That  pilgrim  feet  still  tread  to-day, 
And  counting  all  things  dross 

Save  Him  they  in  long  patience  sought ; 

171 


AM  1  MY  BROTHERS  KEEPER? 

Let  me  press  on  through  pain  and  loss, 
Bending  beneath  my  Master's  cross, 

Learning  as  they  were  taught ; 
Jesus,  Beloved  of  my  heart, 
I  feel  Thine  answer — mine  Thou  art ! 


••AM   I   MY   BROTHER'S   KEEPER?" 

Am  I  my  brother's  keeper  ?     Yes, 

I  owe  him  love  and  care ; 
The  word  of  counsel  and  of  cheer  ; 

The  power  of  earnest  prayer. 

When  fierce  temptation  shakes  his  soul, 
My  strength  should  be  his  stay ; 

When  flattering  voices  lure  to  sin, 
My  form  should  bar  his  way. 

When  sickness  lays  him  low,  my  time, 

My  faithful  ministries, 
My  health,  my  courage,  all  I  have, 

Should  patiently  be  his. 


ALONE  WITH  GOD. 


And  when  his  day  of  life  grows  dark, 

And  tears  his  eye  bedim, 
Mine  is  the  heart  to  feel  his  grief, 

To  sympathize  with  him. 

My  brother's  keeper,  then,  am  I ; 

O  Christ,  within  me  shine, 
That  mine  may  be  the  sacred  joy 

To  help  him  to  be  Thine. 


ALONE   WITH   GOD. 

Into  my  closet  fleeing,  as  the  dove 

Doth  homeward  flee, 
1  haste  away  to  ponder  o'er  Thy  love 

Alone  with  Thee ! 

In  the  dim  wood,  by  human  ear  unheard, 

Joyous  and  free, 
Lord  !  I  adore  Thee,  feasting  on  Thy  word 

Alone  with  Thee ! 

Amid  the  busy  city,  thronged  and  gay, 
But  One  I  see, 
173 


IT  CAXXOT  LAST. 


Tasting  sweet  peace,  as  unobserved  I  pray- 
Alone  with  Thee  ! 

Oh  happy  life  !    Life  hid  with  Christ  in  God 

So  making  me, 
At  home,  and  by  the  wayside,  and  abroad, 

Alone  with  Thee ! 


IT   CANNOT  LAST. 

Weary  now  it  is,  and  must  be, 

All  my  sky  is  overcast ; 
But  no  cloud  can  be  eternal, 

This  one  cannot  always  last ! 

Drearily  the  storm  is  beating, 
Chilling  rain  is  falling  fast ; 

I  am  wet,  and  cold,  and  cheerless ; 
But  it  cannot  always  last ! 

Walls  of  granite,  stern,  forbidding, 
Separate  me  from  the  past, 

That  was  erst  so  glad,  so  joyous  ;— 
But  they  cannot  always  last ! 
174 


SOMETHIXG  FOR  CHRIST. 


And  what  sorrows  lie  before  me 
In  the  future  drear  and  vast ; 

Ah,  I  know  not !     But  it  cheers  me 
That  they  cannot  always  last ! 


SOMETHING   FOR  CHRIST. 

Something  for  Thee  !     Lord,  let  this  be 
Thy  choice  for  me  from  day  to  day ; 

The  life  I  live  it  is  not  mine, 

Thy  will,  my  will,  have  made  it  Thine  ! 
Oh  let  me  do  in  Thine  own  way, 
Something  for  Thee ! 

Something  for  Thee  !     What  shall  it  be  ? 

Speak,  Lord,  Thy  waiting  servant  hears, 
Is  it  to  do  some  mighty  deed  ? 
Is  it  some  multitude  to  feed  ? 

Is  it  to  do  mid  pains  and  fears, 
Something  for  Thee  ? 

Something  for  Thee  !     I  do  not  see 

A  coming  battle  for  my  King, 
I  only  see  a  little  cup — 
i7S 


SOMETHING  FOR  CHRIST. 


With  water  haste  to  fill  it  up  : 

Thy  love  will  own  this  trivial  thing, 
Something  for  Thee  ! 

Something  for  Thee  !     From  self  I  flee, 

What  wilt  Thou,  Master,  from  me  still  ? 
With  eager  heart  I  stand  and  wait, 
Longing  for  work,  or  small  or  great : 
Let  me  be  doing  as  Thy  will, 
Something  for  Thee  ! 

Something  for  Thee  !     On  bended  knee, 

Unseen,  unknown  by  mortal  eye, 
My  soul  for  other  souls  shall  plead — 
As  Thou  for  me  didst  intercede. 
Thy  love  can  own  a  tear,  a  sigh, 
Something  for  Thee  ! 

Something  for  Thee  !     Yet  if  for  me 

It  is  a  useless,  crippled  hand, 
Let  perfect  patience  mark  my  way  : 
Since  they  who  silently  obey 

Are  doing  as  Thy  wisdom  planned, 
Something  for  Thee  ! 
176 


THE  PILGRIM. 


FORGIVE! 

Dear  Lord,  forgive 
The  evil  passions  that  within  me  live, 

Make  my  whole  heart 

Of  Thine  a  part, 
And  let  Thy  Spirit  rule  and  reign  in  me 
That  I  may  perfect  be,  complete  in  Thee. 

I  do  hate  sin 
And  all  the  wretched  work  it  does  within  ; 

I  cannot  rest, 

When  in  my  breast, 
I  see  its  motions  and  its  mad  desires, 
Oh  purge  me,  Lord,  e'en  though  it  be  through  fires. 


THE     PILGRIM. 

From  the  German  of  Schiller. 

Read  this  poem  ot  Schiller's  with  that  Name,  which  is  ahove  every 
ame,  as  its  solution.     "  The  there"  is  "  here." — Mrs.  Charibs. 

Ltfe  was  only  in  its  spring-tide, 
When  to  wander  forth  inclined, 

Youth  I  left  with  all  its  gladness 
In  my  father's  house  behind. 

12  177 


THE  PILGRIM. 


Joyful,  full  of  faith,  my  birthright, 

All  I  had  I  tossed  away, 
Then  a  pilgrim's  staff  inclasping, 

Childish  folly  won  the  day. 

For  a  mighty  hope  inspired  me, 

Faith  clasped  hands  with  vague  desire 

"  On,"  I  cried,  "  the  way  is  open, 
Ever  upward,  ever  higher  ! 

"  On,  until  a  golden  portal 

Shall  to  enter  welcome  thee  ; 
There  the  earthly  shall  be  heavenly 
Heavenly  and  immortal  be." 

It  was  night,  and  came  the  morning, 

Never,  never  stood  I  still ; 
But  there  yet  remained  concealed 

What  I  wanted,  what  would  will. 

Mountains  rose  to  bar  my  progress, 
Rivers  deep  my  way  withstood, 

Over  gulfs  I  built  me  causeways, 
Passed  in  safety,  bridged  the  flood. 

178 


WORK. 


To  a  river's  shore  arriving, 

Whose  wide  current  eastward  prest. 
Full  of  faith,  I  gladly  cast  me 

Straight  into  its  flowing  breasr. 

Making  me  its  sport,  it  bore  me 

Onward  to  a  mighty  sea  : 
Naught  but  empty  space  before  me, 

All  I  aimed  for  fled  from  me. 

Ah  !  no  bridge  will  lead  me  thither ; 

Heaven  will  not  to  earth  come  neai 
But  forever  smile  beyond  me, 

While  the  There  is  never  Here. 


WORK. 

Lord,  what  would'st  Thou  have  me  to  do  * 

Lord,  send  me  work  to  do  for  Thee 

Let  not  a  single  day 
Be  spent  in  waiting  on  myself, 

Or  wasted  pass  away. 
179 


JESUS,  BE  ALL. 


And  teach  me  how  to  work  for  Thee ; 

Thy  Spirit,  Lord,  impart, 
That  I  may  serve  Thee  less  from  fear 

Than  from  a  loving  heart. 

And  bless  the  work  I  do  for  Thee, 

Or  I  shall  toil  in  vain ; 
Mine  be  the  hand  to  drop  the  seed ; 

Thine  to  send  sun  and  rain. 

Thrice  happy  he  who  works  for  Thee ; 

Thou  gran  test  him  the  grace, 
When  he  takes  home  his  work  to  see 

The  Master,  face  to  face. 


JESUS,    BE    ALL. 

O  Lord,  I  know  that  Thou  wilt  give  to  me 

All  that  I  really  want ; 
And  yet  with  heart  insatiate  and  athirst 

For  more  of  Thee  I  pant. 

Bid  me  long  on  :  help  me  to  strive  and  pray 
For  I  wc  uld  rather  kneel 
1 80 


COMPLETE  IN  CHRIST. 


Rent  by  conflicting  wants,  than  never  thirst 
For  Thee,  my  Lord,  to  feel. 

Give  me  the  prayer  of  faith,  that  must  prevail ! 

Dictate  what  my  poor  heart 
Shall  say  to  Thee,  and  how  it  shall  be  said, 

Jesus,  till  mine  Thou  art. 

Come  to  me  with  my  earliest  waking  thought, 

Be  with  me  where  I  go ; 
Be  my  last  thought  at  night,  and  in  my  dreams 

Thy  blessed  presence  show. 

I  am  so  weak,  so  helpless,  Thou  so  strong ; 

Oh,  do  not  let  me  fall ! 
My  self-despair  alone  must  plead  my  cause 

Jesus,  be  Thou  mine  all ! 


COMPLETE   IN   CHRIST. 

M  Ye  are  coirplete  in  Him." 

Complete  in  Him  !     Oh,  Lord,  I  flee, 
Laden  with  this  great  thought,  to  The* 
With  tears  and  smiles  contending,  cry, 
Are  words  like  these  for  such  as  I  ? 
1S1 


JO  Y  UXSPEA  K.  1 BLE. 


Complete  in  Him  !     No  word  of  mine 
Is  needed,  Lord,  to  perfect  Thine  ; 
Wise  Master-Builder,  let  Thy  hand 
Fashion  the  fabric  Thou  hast  planned. 

Complete  in  Him       I  nothing  bring, 
Am  an  imperfect,  useless  thing ; 
But  human  eyes  shall  joy  to  see 
What  God's  dear  hand  shall  add  to  me. 

Complete  in  Him  !     Oh,  longed-for  day. 
When  my  poor,  sinful  heart  can  say, 
Naught  in  myself,  for  ruin  meet, 
In  Jesus  Christ  I  stand  complete  ! 


"JOY   UNSPEAKABLE." 

I. 

The  Christian  life  !     What  is  its  explanation  ? 

Is  it  a  law  of  discipline  and  pain  ? 
oo  stern  a  law  that  hearts  can  never  carol 

A  cheerful,  gladsome  strain  ? 
182 


JOY  UNSPEAKABLE. 


II. 
Is  it  set  only  to  a  cadence  mournful  ? 

A  Miserere  its  peculiar  song  ? 
Surely  we  ever  hear  it,  often  vainly 

For  Jubilates  long. 

in. 
Man's  grief  is  sacred,  yet  he  sometimes  tells  it 

But  of  his  deeper  joy  he  cannot  speak  ; 
He  struggles  in  its  mystery,  and  to  paint  it 

Finds  human  words  too  weak. 


IV. 

The  shallow  brook,  that  its  own  way  is  taking, 
Sings  songs  incessant,  as  it  onward  goes ; 

It  has  no  depths,  no  waves,  no  hidden  secrets ; 
It  has  no  ebbs  and  flows. 


v. 

We  hear  the  ocean  moaning,  sighing  ever, 
We  hear  its  restless  tcssings  and  its  roar ; 

But  of  the  "  central  peace  "  within  its  bosom, 
It  never  tells  us  more. 

183 


JOY  UNSPEAKABLE. 


VI. 
Like  it,  majestic,  human  joy  is  speechless ; 
Like  it,  yet  more,  the  joy  divine  is  mute ; 
Speech  "  may  be  "  silvern,"  but  a  "  golden  silence ' 
Is  rapture's  attribute. 

VII. 

Look  for  the  soul  whose  glance  is  ever  upward, 
Who  sees  the  living  Christ,  who  knows  the  grace 

Of  His  mysterious  friendship ;  loves  Him,  trusts 
Him  ; 
Speaks  to  Him,  face  to  face : 

VIII. 

And  you  have  found  a  soul,  that  though  it  utter 
Ofttimes  a  groan,  and  ofttimes  sheds  a  tear, 

Knows  of  a  bliss  whose  language  is  transcendent, 
And  cannot  reach  the  ear. 

IX. 

Thrice  blessed  soul !     It  cannot  tell  its  story — 
Cannot,  to  mortal  ear,  its  depths  betray ; 

But  it  shall  tell  it,  giving  Christ  the  glory, 
In  His  effulgent  Day  ! 

184 


THE  CRY  OF  THE   YOUNG   WIFE. 


THE   CRY  Ol    THE  YOUNG  WIFE. 


What  o'clock  is  it,  Nurse  ?     Just  one  ?     Why,  I 

thought  it  was  four ; 
That  must  be  moonlight,  then,  lying  so  white  on 

the  floor. 
Ah,  what   long   nights !      And  I  have  not  been 

sleeping  at  all, 
But  lying  here  watching   your  shadow  nod  this 

way  and  that,  on  the  wall. 


n. 

Wet  my  lips,  Nurse ;   give  me  drink ;   put  some 

ice  to  my  head  ; 
No,  not  there  —  here  on  my  forehead!    oh,  how 

you  're  shaking  the  bed  ! 
Oh,  that  I  lay  like  the  moonlight  so  cold  and  so 

white, 
But  I  'm  burning  with  fever,  and  tired,  so  tired 

to-night ! 

1S5 


THE  CRY  OF  THE   YOUNG   WIFE. 

III. 
In  the  morning  I  sigh  for  the  evening ;  at  night 

I  pine  for  the  day. 
All  my  young  life-blood  is  scorching  and  drying 

away. 
Well,  let  it  dry !     For  my  life  it  is  nothing  to  me, 
At  best  't  is  a  fetter,  and  I  only  long  to  be  free. 

IV. 

The  child,  do  you  say?     Nay,  don't  talk  to  me  of 

the  child  ! 
Lay  more  ice  on  my  forehead  ;  be  quiet,  and  don't 

look  so  wild. 
Best  for  the  stream  at  its  fountain  to  fail  and  to 

dry, 
Best  for  the  child  with  its  young  little  mother  to 

die. 

v. 

For  I  am  so  young  !   I'm  so  young  !     Oh,  Nurse, 

don't  you  know 
Vhat  a  happy  young  creature  I  was  only  four 

weeks  ago? 

1 86 


THE  CRY  OF  THE   YOUNG   WIFE. 

He  called  me  his  darling,  his  plaything,  his  baby — ■ 
but  nay, 
'm  his  widow — do  you  hear  ?     I  am  his  widow, 
to-day. 

VI. 

I  always  thought  widows  were  old  ;  wore  stiff  caps 

and  gray  curls ; 
Never  dreamed  that  they  ever  were  made  of  young 

girls  ! 
But  I  'm  a  young  girl,  and  my  Philip  was  only  a 

boy — 
Brilliant   and   handsome.     Why,    just   to   behold 

him  was  joy ! 

VII. 

Why  did  I  let  him  go  forth  to  that  terrible  fight  ? 
They  say  it  was  all  for  his  country;  that  he  died 

for  the  triumph  of  right. 
Well,  let  the  country  rejoice.     It  has  snatched  my 

love  from  my  side, 
/Ynd    made   me  a  widow  when   I  was  scarcely  a 

bride. 

•37 


THE  CRY  OF  THE   YOUNG  WIFE. 

VIII. 

Do  you  say  it 's  the /ever  that  makes  all  my  talk- 
ing so  wild  ? 

That,  perhaps,  I  could  cry  and  get  eased  if  I  would 
but  look  at  my  child  ? 

Nay,  nothing  can  give  me  ease  now  till  my  hands 
you  enfold, 

And  lay  me  down  under  the  moonlight,  as  white 
and  as  cold. 

THE   SONG  OF  THE  YOUNG  MOTHER. 
IX. 

Ah,  my  own  baby !     I  love  thee,  I  love  thee  at 

last ! 
The  tempest  of  sorrow  is  over,  the  night  of  my 

anguish  is  past ! 
Come  to  my  heart,  thou  bright  creature  !   closer, 

ah,  closer,  my  boy ! 
The  world  it  no  longer  is  empty,  it  is  brimming, 

is  brimming  with  joy  ! 

x. 

Ah,  my  own  baby!     My  darling!     Thy  fathers 
own  glorious  child  !    * 
i83 


THE  GRY  OF  THE   YOUNG  WIFE. 

Radiant  in  beauty  thou  art,  and,  like  him,  unde- 
fined; 

All  the  mad  love  that  I  gave  him  I  pour  out  on 
thee ; 

The  world  it  no  longer  is  empty ;  but  the  fulness 
of  fulness  to  me  ! 

Sings — We  '11  grow  up  together,  my  baby, 
Thou  and  I  together ; 
We  '11  go  hopping  from  bough  to  bough, 
Little  birds  of  a  feather  ! 
And  we  will  play 
In  fragrant  hay, 
And  berries  sweet 
Together  eat ; 
Thou  'It  forget  I  'm  thy  little  mother — 
I  '11  make  believe  thou  'rt  my  little  brother  ! 
Thou  shalt  be  all  in  all  to  me , 
I  will  be  all  in  all  to  thee. 
And,  by-and-by,  when  thou  art  a  man, 
I  '11  be  just  as  young  as  I  can ; 
Never  maiden,  never  a  bride, 
Shall  steal  my  darling  away  from  my  side 
A  soldier's  death  thou  shalt  never  die, 
189 


THE  CRY  OF  THE   YOUNG   WIFE. 

In  a  soldier's  grave  thou  shalt  never  lie ; 
But  gay  and  joyful  thy  life  shall  be, 
Thou  shalt  be  all  in  all  to  me, 
And  I  will  be  all  in  all  to  thee  ! 

HER    SIGH. 
XI. 

Down  'mid  high  grass  a  mother-bird  built  her  a 

nest ; 
I  was  that  bird ;   and  my  nestling  it  lies  there  at 

rest ! 
Was  it  long  years  ago — was  it  but  yesterday,  say  ? 
That  laying  him  down  there  I  left  him,  and  went 

on  my  way  ? 

XII. 

Sorrow  has  sought  me  and  found  me ;  sorrow  has 

silvered  my  hair ; 
At  my  table  he   sits  n?y  sole  guest ;    facing  me 

solemnly  there ; 
He  has  stolen  my  youth  and  my  laughter ;  stolen 

my  life  and  my  joy, 
Snatched  away  husband  and  lover,  seized  on  my 

beautiful  boy. 

iqo 


THE  CRY  OF  THE  YOUNG   WIFE. 

XIII. 

Ah,  I  was  joyous  and  thoughtless;  evil  and  dan- 
ger defied, 

Forth  from  gay  childhood  I  ran  to  the  life  of  a 
bride. 

I  must  have  something  to  love ;  on  something 
must  pour  out  my  heart : 

Little  recked  I  of  trouble,  little  of  thorn  and  of 
smart. 

XIV. 

And  then  they  must  kill  him,  my  husband,  my 

lover,  my  all ! 
Shivered  in  fragments  my  heart  with  the  same  fatal 

ball! 
Shivered  in  fragments,  and  frozen  and  lifeless  it  lay, 
Whose  were  the  hands  that  its  warmth  to  restore 

could  assay ! 

xv. 

Thine,  my  own  baby  !     None  other !     Ah,  the  first 

wakings  to  joy, 
Under  the  touch  of  thy  fingers,  my  darling,  my 

beautiful  boy ! 

iqr 


THE  CRY  OF  THE    YOVKG   WIFE. 

Green  grew  the  earth  'neath  my  feet,  blue  the  sky 

over  my  head ! 
Of  one  idol  bereft,  in  my  heart  I  enthroned  thee 

instead. 


XVI. 

So  the  new  current  of  life  went  babbling  along, 

Sparkling  and  gleesome,  and  full  of  its  youth  and 
its  song ; 

We  had  not  a  moment  for  sadness,  never  a  mo- 
ment to  sigh, 

We  were  two  children  together,  just  my  own  baby 
and  I ! 

HER    NEW    SONG. 

Dear  Lord,  my  heart  was  but  a  willful  thing, 
Strong  in  its  strength  and  ever  on  the  wing : 
It  needed  mastership,  and  Thou  hast  claimed  it, 
It  needed  taming,  and  Thy  hand  has  tamed  it. 
Now,  gentle,  peaceful,  harmless  as  a  dove, 
It  lives  as  erst  it  lived  its  life,  in  love  ; 
Love  to  all  living  things  that  Thou  hast  made ; 
A  love  that  is  all  sunshine  without  shade. 
j  92 


THE  CRY  OF  THE   YOirXG   WIFE. 

Thy  fair,  green  earth  is  dotted  as  with  flowers, 
With  little  human  souls,  and  blissful  hours 
I  spend  in  blessed  ministries  to  them. 
Ah,  many  a  flower  I  gather,  many  a  gem  ! 
And  I  have  Thee  !     No  battle's  rude  affray 
Can  ever  tear  Thee  from  my  heart  away ; 
And  the  cold  hand  that  stole  my  boy  from  me, 
Can  never  lay  a  claiming  touch  on  Thee  ! 
And  so  my  life  goes  on,  and  to  some  eyes 
Flinty  and  lonely  all  my  pathway  lies ; 
But  Thou,  who  taking  much,  so  much  hast  given, 
Hast  granted  me  the  very  peace  of  Heaven. 
Through  loss  I  passed  to  gain !     Through  death 

to  life ! 
I  kiss  the  rod  that  smote  the  youthful  wife, 
And  love  Him  best  who  took  away  the  boy, 
And  woke  the  mother  from  her  dream  of  joy. 
My  God,  Thine  eye,  omniscient  and  divine, 
Rests  on  no  happier,  gladder  heart  than  mine ; 
Empty  of  all  things  else,  what  room  for  Thee, 
Who  hast  been,  art,  and  will  be,  All  to  me  ! 


[93 


APPENDIX. 


"  NEW  YEAR  THOUGHTS." 

From  "  The  Sabbath  at  Home." 

Those  who  read  the  beautiful  lines  thus  entitled 
in  the  January  number  of  this  Magazine,  will  feel 
that  a  touching  and  sacred  interest  is  attached  to 
them  when  they  learn  that  the  warm  heart  that 
dictated,  and  the  hand  that  gave  them  language, 
then  lay  cold  in  death. 

Their  author,  Mrs.  Julia  B.  Cady,  was  young 
and  happy ;  the  joy  and  pride  of  a  sweet,  Christian 
home ;  a  blessed  wife  and  mother,  with  everything 
to  attract  her  to  this  life.  But  her  face  was  ever 
set  right  heavenward ;  and  when,  just  as  the  old 
year  was  closing,  the  summons  to  come  up  higher 
reached  her,  she  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  lay 
aside  her  earthly  garments,  and  to  go.  She  had 
lived  for  Christ :  her  time,  her  thoughts,  her  work 
were  all  for  him.  She  loved  His  poor  for  His  sake, 
and  gathered  them  about  her,  counseled  them, 
1 94 


APPENDIX. 

prayed  with  them,  found  employment  for  them, 
made  herself  one  with  them.  She  loved  to  wel- 
come friendless  waifs,  tossed  upon  the  tide  of  this 
great  sea  of  city  life,  into  hospitable  shelter.  She 
loved  little  children,  and  made  their  interests  her 
own.  She  loved  the  Church  of  Christ,  and,  one 
sacramental  season  after  another,  saw  those  united 
to  it  whose  feet  she  had  guided  there.  In  a  word, 
she  loved  Christ,  and  walked  with  God  in  an  unob- 
trusive and  meek  pathway,  that  has  now  led  her 
straight  to  his  eternal  embrace. 

And  hardly  had  she  gone  hence,  when,  like  a 
voice  from  the  grave,  there  came  to  her  astonished, 
weeping  friends,  who  saw  it  now  for  the  first  time, 
this  cheerful  greeting  to  the  New  Year;  precious 
words,  reserved  for  their  joy  and  solace  when  they 
should  enter  that  year  without  her.  Would  there 
were  more  homes  like  hers !  Would  there  were 
more  souls  as  saintly,  as  rich  in  faith  and  love,  as 
hers  I  Would  that  every  one  who  reads  this  brief 
notice  could  face  the  unknown  future  with  the 
calm  confidence  with  which  she  confronted  it ! 

One  touching  incident  may,  perhaps,  be  added. 
At  the  close  of  the  funeral-services,  two  frienda 
195 


APPENDIX. 


stole  back  to  the  church  to  take  one  more  look  at 
the  peaceful  face.  There  she  lay,  amid  an  opulent — 
nay,  a  regal  profusion  of  flowers,  the  gift  of  those 
who  had  loved  and  honored  her  and  hers ;  and  a 
group  of  poor  women  and  children  hung  around 
her  coffin,  giving  all  they  had  to  give.  It  was  a 
beautiful  contrast,  such  as  is  rarely  seen  upon 
earth  ;  the  testimony  of  the  rich  and  the  testimony 
of  the  poor — the  flowers  of  the  one,  and  the  tears 
of  the  other.  How  little  she  knew,  when  she 
asked  the  coming  year  what  it  had  in  store  for 
her,  that  it  had  these  flowers  and  these  tears,  and 
the  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant!  enter 
into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord !  " 

NEW -YEAR   THOUGHTS. 

Farewell,  Old  Year!   the  rustle  of  whose  gar- 
ment, 

Fragrant  with  memory,  I  still  can  hear : 
For  all  thy  tender  kindness  and  thy  bounty 

I  drop  my  thankful  tribute  on  thy  bier. 

What  is  in  store  for  me,  brave  New  Year,  hidden 
Beneath  thy  glistening  robe  of  ice  and  snows  ? 
196 


APPENDIX. 


Are  there  sweet  songs  of  birds,  and  breath  of  lilacr, 
And  blushing  blooms  of  June's  scent-laden  rose  ? 

Are    there   cold   winds   and   dropping  leaves   of 
autumn, 
Heart-searching  frosts,  and  storm-clouds  black 
and  drear? 
Is  there  a  rainbow  spanning  the  dark  heaven? 
Wilt  thou  not  speak  and  tell  me,  glad  New  Year  ? 

As  silent  art  thou  of  the  unknown  future 

As  if  thy  days  were  numbered  with  the  dead ; 

Yet,  as  I  enter  thy  wide-open  portal, 

I  cross  thy  threshold  with  glad  hope,  not  dread. 

To  me  no  pain  or  fear  or  crushing  sorrow 

Hast  thou  the  power  without  His  will  to  bring* 

And  so  I  fear  thee  not,  O  untried  morrow  ! 
For  well  I  know  my  Father  is  thy  King. 

If  joy  thou  bringest,  straight  to  God,  the  giver, 
My  gratitude  shall  rise ;  for  'tis  his  gift : 

If  sorrow,  still,  'mid  waves  of  Grief's  deep  river, 
My  trembling  heart  I'll  to  my  Father  lift. 
i97 


APPENDIX. 


If  life's  full  cup  shall  be  my  happy  potion, 
With  thankful  joy  I'll  drink  the  precious  draught; 

If  death,  my  waiting  soul  across  Life's  ocean 
But  little  sooner  to  my  home  'twill  waft. 

So  hope-lit  New  Year,  with  thy  joys  uncertain, 
Whose  unsolved  mystery  none  may  foretell, 

I  calmly  trust  my  God  to  lift  thy  curtain : 
Safe  in  his  love,  for  me  'twill  all  be  well. 

J.  B.  C. 


REPLY  OF  THE  NEW  YEAR. 

What  had  I  hidden  for  thee  in  my  bosom, 
Thou  fearless  listener  at  my  closed  door  ? 

With  what  sweet  songs  was  I   prepared  to  greet 
thee  ? 
What  were  the  fragrant  flowers  I  held  in  store .' 

Was  it  the  song  of  birds,  the  breath  of  lilacs, 
The  blushing  blooms  of  June's  scent-laden  rose, 

The  rainbow-hues  of  beauty  and  of  promise, 
The  cup  that  with  life's  gladness  overflows  ? 


APPENDIX 


.Nay,  thou  beloved  one!     Songs  of  angel  voices 
Are  the  sweet  notes  that  waited  for  thine  ear ; 

Immortal  are  the  flowers  my  hands  had  gathered 
To  deck  thy  pathway  to  the  brave  New  Year. 

Mine   was  the  joy   to   clasp  thy  hand,  and  lead 
thee 
Into  green  pastures  :  guide  thy  willing  feet, 
That   oft   had   strayed  that  way,  to  the  full  foun- 
tain, 
To  crystal  rivers,  waters  clear  and  sweet ; 

To  see  thee  in  the  garments  pure  and  spotless 
In  which  His  loved  ones  are  by  Jesus  dressed ; 

Behold  thee  take  possession  of  the  mansion 
Provided  for  the  long-expected  guest. 

Farewell,  thou  missed  and   mourned !     In  those 
fair  regions, 
Where  now  thou  art  at  home,  there  are  no  years  ; 
There  are  no  pains,  or  fears,  or  crushing  sorrows, 
No  frosts,  no  storm  clouds,  no  cold  winds,  no 
tears. 

IQ9 


APPENDIX. 


Thine  is  no  doubtful  path,  no  fate  uncertain ; 

For  thee  no  anxious  fear  one  heart  may  swell : 
But  tear-dimmed  eyes  pierce  Death's  transparent 
curtain, 

And  see  thee  safe  with  Christ, — all  well,  all  well] 


Jan  3,  1870. 


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